


Wasting My Time

by Raine_Wynd



Series: Without Love [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Bad Exes, Canon-Typical Violence, Clan Denial, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Character of Color, Foul Language, Immortals, Inspired by Music, Multi, Novel, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Quickening, Quickening Tricks, Richie Lives, Romance, Secrets, Stalking, Technology, Watchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Set in the same universe as “All the Right Reasons.” Duncan meets a dynamic, independent, confident woman – but her ex wants her back, and he's willing to kill to make it happen....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing to indulge in old fandom love.
> 
> Thanks to the supportive folks on Twitter: Sam Johnsson, Torra_K, and raveninthewind, for answering my questions; and to N., who helped fix what needed fixing.

#### Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Since it was in his neighborhood, Duncan often went running on the three-mile path that encircled Ridge Lake, a small lake that divided the northwestern part of the city. After his encounter with Peter Canis, who had used dogs to hunt down other immortals, Duncan had fashioned a sheath for his katana that would go over a lightweight running jacket. Over the years, he had found that most runners did not notice the hilt of his sword or bought the excuse he was training for some event, such as a Society for Creative Anachronism battle or a theater production.

Today, Duncan had driven down to the eight-mile-long, more challenging, Windy Lake jogging trail, which ran along Windy Lake, the largest of the three lakes within Seacouver’s city limits, and the only one that emptied into Puget Sound. The trail connected with a floating bridge over the lake, which supplied pedestrian and vehicle access, but Duncan disliked running over that bridge, so he usually turned around before he got there.

Duncan was halfway to the bridge when he saw a dark brunette, muscular, Hispanic woman sitting on a park bench, staring out at the water. She had drawn her legs up to her chest and held her knees tight as she rested her chin on them. Her long wavy hair obscured her face, but the vulnerability and heartache she projected drew him in like a lasso. His steps slowed before he told himself he should keep running; if she was there when he passed by a second time, he would then ask if she was OK.

When he returned to the same spot, she was still there. “Hello,” he greeted, approaching her. “I hate to say this, but you look so sad, I couldn’t help but stop and ask if there’s anything I can do to help.”

She looked up, and for the first time, he saw her face. She had a wide oval face with a strong nose, thin eyebrows, deep-set blue eyes, and a wide mouth. Tears stained her cheeks. She took a breath before she blinked back her tears and set her feet on the ground. She wore a long-sleeved blue, yellow, and black running top, matching leggings, and sneakers. The outfit emphasized her muscular, broad frame and womanly curves.

“Not unless you have a cure for people who claim they love you and then dump you over breakfast.”

“Afraid not,” Duncan said regretfully, “but better company and a change of scenery sometimes helps.”

She chuckled ruefully. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she told him. “I’m Vanessa.” She offered her hand to shake.

“Duncan,” he told her, shaking hands. “Can I interest you in breakfast, take two? The coffee shop at the end of the trail does amazing things with their bagels.”

She considered the offer. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight.”

She shook her head. “I should get going; I’ll be late to work if I don’t. Thanks for stopping, Duncan.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched her go, admiring her resilience and physical beauty, before finishing his run, and regretting he hadn’t thought to ask for her number. He was only glad Richie had not been with him since Richie would tease him for that slip.

* * *

After an early lunch at a restaurant on the other side of the neighborhood, Duncan headed over to the dojo to prep it for the afternoon and evening classes. As he parked his car next to Richie’s motorcycle in the lot behind the dojo, he felt another immortal, and knew Richie was in the dojo. Grabbing the duffel bag that held his workout gear and his sword, Duncan swung it over his shoulder. Since the back door was an emergency exit only, Duncan stepped to the front door and unlocked it with his key. Both he and Richie had discovered leaving it unlocked meant random people wandered into the dojo when they were trying to get ready, so they kept it locked during non-business hours. Since the dojo took cash payments for drop-ins, it was also a means to prevent a snatch-and-grab.

On Wednesdays, prep rarely took long, since they were diligent about mopping and sweeping the floors every night. Putting down the training mats took the longest, since it was a two-person job.

“Did anyone contact us for a new student training?” Duncan asked as they moved the large, foldable mat into place in one of the two studios.

“Not as of yet. You know how everyone shows up just as the class is supposed to start and doesn’t email or call. Or they think posting to our Facebook page will get them an immediate answer.” Richie waited until Duncan had adjusted the mat on his side before setting his side down; the mat was large enough it only fit in a specific direction but was prone to shifting. “That good enough?”

Duncan stepped back and looked at the mat. “Good enough,” he decided. “Are you doing anything for Easter Sunday?”

Richie grinned. “You’re invited to join us for dinner at three on Sunday.”

Unsurprised, Duncan nodded. “Delara and Patrick going all out as usual?”

“When have my lovers ever missed a reason to celebrate?”

Duncan chuckled. Richie was part of a polyamorous relationship with a recently married couple, who enjoyed hosting weekly dinner parties with their friends and family. They had proven to be people with a diverse network of friends and associates. Delara was Persian, and she and her parents celebrated American and Persian holidays as if their friends would starve without a bounty of food to eat.

“I suppose that was a stupid question,” he mused as he joined Richie in prepping the second studio which they used for private lessons. “Sure, I’ll come. Do you know if it will be a big party?”

“Delara said she planned to put in the extension for the table, so that means we’re probably serving between eight and twelve. Or I’m mistaken, and we’ll have a full house again.” Richie grinned. “I’m still figuring out what they mean by ‘a small group.’ They want to feed people and have a big celebration for holidays like this.”

Duncan nodded. “I remember the midwinter party buffet. It’s been a while since I’ve been at a party at someone’s house with that many people.”

Richie grinned. “Delara grew up here; she says she doesn’t know what it would feel like without knowing a host of people. She drew the line at doing the full Persian spring festival like her mother wanted. She said it’s too much work to do both that and Easter unless she compromises on one day, and we’re going to Easter service at Delara’s parents’ church in the morning.”

Duncan grinned, aware that his former student was agnostic. “Must be serious. You’re going to church with the parents.”

“The church they attend is far more welcoming than the Catholic Church,” Richie pointed out. “You know I’ve never minded going to a church or synagogue or temple, if only for the experience of it. But as I warned Delara and Patrick, they shouldn’t expect me to attend every service. I’m not convinced one faith has better answers than another and won’t be. I figure as long as the gods don’t care that I don’t care what their names are as long as I respect the ground that’s been consecrated to them, then I’m okay.”

Having heard Richie’s opinion on that subject at length, Duncan acknowledged his words with a nod. “Everything still going okay with you three?”

Nodding, Richie said, “Patrick has moments where he gets wound up about seeing my sword, but given it comes out when he’s stressed out about work, I’m not too worried. He’s seeing a therapist for anxiety and for help to deal with the fallout from his parents disowning him.”

“Oh, good. He’s otherwise fine?”

“I’d be happier if he was working somewhere that respected him more,” Richie noted honestly. “I’ve been having to reassure him more lately that I’m not going anywhere.”

Duncan winced at that. “Have you looked at what would happen if he were to quit and go somewhere else?”

“Patrick’s worried he and Delara don’t have enough money to keep the house if he were to lose his job. Delara and I have discussed it.”

“And?”

“Delara could handle the mortgage and utilities by herself for two months. With my help, they could float for six. Delara’s parents aren’t poor immigrants, either; they’re both well-paid professionals who still work part-time because they can’t fathom being completely retired. If she said they needed help, her parents would give her the money without hesitation.”

“From the conversations I’ve had with Patrick, he grew up with the notion that the man of the house had to carry the financial weight of the household.”

Richie nodded. “For all the progressiveness he embraces, Patrick can’t shake his fundamentalist upbringing on what he brings to a marriage. Delara and I think Patrick’s not ready to hear that we could handle him being out of work for a few months - at least, not until after he wraps up this big project he’s been assigned to lead.”

“Check with Nene,” Duncan suggested, naming one of the two senior instructors they had on staff. “She’s a semi-retired engineer who’s still highly active in the local engineering societies. She’d likely have some suggestions for companies Patrick might want to consider instead.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Mac.”

“Anytime. You know I enjoy seeing you happy.”

That got him a quick grin, which made Duncan smile.

In the two decades since Richie had snuck into his antique shop and changed his life, Duncan had rarely had the pleasure of seeing the younger immortal in a relationship with the potential of lasting several years, and never with two people simultaneously. Richie had tried to walk away before revealing immortality to them, and the effort had failed, spurred on by Delara’s insistence on knowing why. Since then, Delara and Patrick had regularly seen Duncan and Richie spar in practice and had seen Richie fight another immortal who refused to walk away and fight somewhere else. Their resolve to stand by Richie, despite Patrick’s ongoing anxieties, had impressed Duncan and made him wish he had someone as committed.

By 1 pm, Duncan went to change into his instructor’s uniform, which was a traditional black gi embroidered with his name, the dojo’s name, and logo. Richie traded the rock band t-shirt he had worn for a polo shirt emblazoned with the dojo’s name and logo. Their swords went into the dojo’s small office. Richie put his backup knife in a sheath on his belt, hidden by the tails of his shirt.

Richie put the cash lockbox in the top drawer of the reception desk, then logged into the computer system. A tablet connected with the registrant and billing database, reducing the necessity of having to decipher handwriting, and enabled credit card and electronic payment. By the time Duncan left the locker room, Richie had opened the front door to let in John Wood and Nene Kawamura, the senior instructors. In addition to Duncan, the dojo had six instructors; all were certified black belts in at least two of the martial arts Duncan taught. Like Duncan, both Nene and John wore the dojo’s uniform for instructors; both carried bags that held changes of clothing.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Nene greeted. Her black hair was braided, leaving her neckline bare. “Any newbies tonight?”

“Just one, but it’s the same person as last week who said they would be late and then never showed up,” Richie said, consulting the database.

“Right,” Nene said, her tone skeptical. “Tell us if she shows up. John, did you cut your hair? It’s, um, interesting.”

John sported a cut shaved on one side and badly chopped on the other. He chuckled ruefully and rubbed his head self-consciously. “Yeah. Don’t go to a cheap hair salon and expect them to know how to cut hair like some celeb in a magazine.”

Everyone groaned. “How did you get to forty-five and not know that?” Nene admonished him.

“Went to the same stylist for twenty years?” John retorted. “At least I convinced myself shaving my head was not the answer. My luck, I’ll cut my scalp open. Richie, what’s the name of your barber?”

“I’ll text you the info,” Richie promised him, and then did that while Nene and John went to store their bags in the locker rooms.

Within a few minutes, the other four instructors – Sanjuana Maldonado, Mark Larocco, Walter Holder, and David Jordan – arrived. The first class was at two; Richie usually locked the door after the last instructor so he could attend the briefing Duncan conducted at the start of every shift. Duncan went over what they wanted to cover in each class, reviewed any progress notes the other instructors had made, and did a warmup session so the instructors were ready to teach. The briefing took half an hour. At 1:45, Richie opened the door to let in the class attendees of the first class of the day, who were the young children attending the beginner level class and their parents, who could watch the training from the sidelines.

As usual, the afternoon faded swiftly into evening. By nine-thirty, the dojo was closed and ready for the next day’s classes. Duncan bid Richie goodnight and drove home, his stomach grumbling at its lack of dinner. As he made and ate dinner, he remembered meeting Vanessa, and wondered if he would ever see her again. He sincerely hoped so; it had been a long time since someone like her had captivated his attention.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner menu taken from: [this page](http://www.labnoon.com/en/2018/03/09/persian-cooking-class-spring-edition-easter-norouz-march-17th/)

#### Sunday, April 12, 2020

“Who are these people, again?” Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda asked her best friend and housemate, Lily Walton, as they rode in the back of the ride-share car Lily had hired.

Lily turned to look at her. She had a dark faerie look, with a high-boned face, blackish-brown hair, a slender frame, and pale Celtic skin. Her chosen attire only reinforced her ruthless faerie beauty – a dove gray, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that had a lace bateau top and a high-low hem. The look was deliberate: Lily reveled in celebrating her looks. “I worked with Patrick two years ago; he and his wife just got married in December.” Lily shook her head. “When I left, they were insistent I stay in touch. I’ve been to several of their holiday parties since; they know many people.” Lily reached out and grasped Vanessa’s hand. “I know you just got dumped by Ross, but he didn’t deserve you.”

Vanessa sighed, brushing back her long wavy brunette hair. “So much for the dream of moving out here and not meeting assholes.”

“Hey, let’s not discount your awesome job, the fact we’ve reconnected and are roommates again, or that mysterious, handsome stranger you met on Wednesday,” Lily countered.

Vanessa chuckled. “Yeah, he made my morning.” Shaking her head, she glanced down at the turquoise cocktail dress she had chosen. “You don’t think what I’m wearing is too much for a house party?”

Lily shook her head. “No, Delara likes to dress up for these things. Patrick told me their boyfriend bought her a new dress.”

“Wait, I thought you said Delara was married to Patrick?”

“She is. They also share a boyfriend named Richie.” Lily paused. “I’m warning you now, so you aren’t shocked. They don’t hide it. Patrick told me they quit pretending Richie was just a good friend around her parents after her mother asked him if he was going to ever kiss Richie.” Lily chuckled. “I would have loved to have seen his face for that!”

“Oh.” Vanessa mulled that over. “I’ve never been around that kind of openness, but it sounds better than cheating.”

Lily looked relieved. “If it bothers you, let me know.”

Vanessa shook her head. “If I didn’t know it before – yeah, that would’ve bothered me. I don’t know if I’d be willing to ever try it,” she laughed, “but as long as they don’t expect me to join in, I don’t care.”

“No, Patrick insisted what he and Delara share with Richie is just between the three of them, no one else.” Wryly, Lily added, “I couldn’t imagine Patrick wanting anyone other than Delara, but then I saw a picture of Richie.”

“Good-looking?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lily agreed. “If you like redheaded men who look boyishly handsome.”

“Huh,” Vanessa said. “Not my thing. I take it he and the in-laws will be at dinner?”

Lily nodded. “I haven’t met Richie or Patrick’s in-laws, but I have met Delara. Delara’s parents are Iranian Christians who escaped persecution and came here when Delara was little. Patrick says they’re open and welcoming because they understand what being different means. Also, because they’re Christian, they’ll say grace before dinner. They don’t expect their friends and guests to join them, though if you want to be polite, just bow your head. They don’t see it as trying to preach their religion, either.”

“Their house, their rules,” Vanessa murmured in understanding and looked at her friend. “Dinner is sounding more interesting all the time.”

It didn’t take long for the ride-share driver to drop them off at Patrick and Delara’s house, which was a two-bedroom Craftsman-style home in the Cedar Hills neighborhood of Seacouver. The homes in the neighborhood sat on an incline above the street, as if someone had carved the entire street out after the homes had all been built. A driveway led from the street to the detached garage. From the curb, the home looked small, but as she and Lily walked up the drive, she saw the lot was long but narrow, which meant the rooms in the house were larger. A note on the door said, “No need to ring the doorbell – all are welcome! (Except vampires).”

Chuckling, Vanessa followed Lily inside. Immediately to their left was the living room, already full of people. Lily set her purse down on the floor underneath the overflowing coat tree and shed her shoes; Vanessa followed her example, grateful for Lily’s warning not to bother with heels.

A broadly built man with tanned skin, dressed in a short-sleeved green button-down shirt and khaki pants, greeted them. His walnut brown hair was cut short on the sides and fluffed at the top. He had the look of a man who worked out to keep fit. He had an oval face with a wide forehead, a wide nose, high cheekbones, and small lips. Stubble dusted his cheeks and chin. Seeing Lily, he exclaimed, “Welcome, Lily! Glad you could make it! Welcome to my home. Who did you bring with you?” He hugged Lily as Vanessa hung back.

“Patrick, this is Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda, my best friend and housemate,” Lily said, introducing them. “Vanessa, this is Patrick Wirtz, our host and a former coworker turned friend.”

“Pleased to meet you. You’re the last people we were expecting, so we’ll be serving dinner shortly. Come on in, introduce yourself to everyone, or not, your choice–” Patrick flashed a smile “–we won’t hold it against you, since there’s a lot of people to remember. We’ll run through names when we sit down, just so people can name themselves. Can I get you two something to drink: wine, beer, soda, water?”

“White wine, please,” Lily asked.

“The same,” Vanessa agreed. The first floor was a long series of rooms; they stood in the living area, but could see into the formal dining room beyond, with the kitchen appearing to be the dead end of the floor.

As they stood, debating whether to join the crowd in the living area or check out the enticing smells from the dining room, a strikingly beautiful Persian woman approached them.

She was about an inch taller than Vanessa’s own five-feet eight-inches. The woman had skin the color of wheat and her medium-length, wavy hair was dyed ombre red. She had a sharply angled face with striking features, a prominent bustline, a thin waist, and wide hips on a medium frame. Today, she wore a formal, floral-print short-sleeve cocktail dress; her Williams Sonoma-branded apron contrasted sharply with her dress and betrayed she had been cooking most of the morning. Vanessa felt relief at seeing her attire; it meant Vanessa was not overdressed.

After greeting Lily, she turned to Vanessa. “You must be Vanessa. Hi, I’m Delara, Patrick’s wife. Since we’re going to be eating soon, why don’t you and Lily take seats at the table, and I’ll round up everyone else? If you can’t read the place cards, ask Richie – he’s the tall redhead in the kitchen, helping my mother with the last platter.”

Vanessa looked in the kitchen, seeing whom Delara meant. The redhead in question looked like he was in his early twenties, but he radiated competence, and appeared to be fussing over a senior version of Delara. Even as she wondered what the story was behind Delara and Patrick’s choice to have a shared boyfriend, Vanessa followed Lily into the dining room. The table had been set for fourteen, with platters of food lining the middle. Everything smelled delicious. Lily found her place first and understood why Delara had mentioned the handwriting; the writer had used a silver glitter gel pen. Fortunately, the writing was legible.

The group took their seats. Delara and Patrick sat on opposite ends of the table, with Delara closest to the kitchen. Richie sat on Delara’s right, her father on her left.

Once Delara’s father had said grace, he said, “I am pleased to see my children have so many friends. Please, introduce yourselves, so an old man may refresh his memory. I am Jasper Mewsewa, my wife is Banu,” Banu waved from her seat on Patrick’s right, next to Vanessa, “and my daughter is Delara, as you know, and my son-in-law is Patrick, and their gracious friend who was helping my Banu and Delara cook today is Richie Ryan.”

Richie waved. “I chopped vegetables and followed orders,” he joked. “The recipes are Banu’s, Delara’s, and Patrick’s. If you’re allergic to nuts, gluten, or anything else, and didn’t tell us, please tell us now so we can avoid going to the hospital on Easter Sunday.”

Silence fell. “No, okay,” Richie said, looking relieved. “Your turn, Loriann.”

The beach blonde, overly tanned, middle-aged California-girl-grew-up woman to Richie’s right smiled. “I’m Loriann Tansen; I’m the next-door-neighbor. I married rich; he died young. Woe is me.” She didn’t look too distressed at this, making Vanessa think there was a complicated story behind that careless disclosure.

“I’m Sean Daniels,” the short black man to Loriann’s right introduced himself. “I met Richie at a motorcycle riders’ meet-up about a month ago, and he told me his friends host amazing parties.” Delara and Patrick beamed at that. “I work for the county as a naturalist, and I’m married to that guy.” He pointed to the lumberjack-type seated on Vanessa’s right.

“I’m Sharon Williams,” the heavyset woman on Sean’s right took her cue. “I work as an ER nurse at Seacouver General, and I’m so happy not to be working this holiday, you have no idea. My husband’s that guy who isn’t a_ Star Trek fan_.” She pointed to the heavyset, bearded man on Jasper’s left. “I’ve known Delara since we met in college, and no, we will not count how long that is.”

Vanessa looked expectantly at the man across the table from her for the first time. Recognition slammed into her as she realized he was the man she had met on Wednesday. He nodded and smiled before saying, “I’m Duncan MacLeod. I run a martial arts dojo with Richie.” To Vanessa, he said, “And I’m pleased to meet you again, Vanessa.”

Lily looked at both of them before exclaiming, “You’re the guy from Wednesday?”

“Small world,” Duncan murmured.

“You can say that,” Lily chuckled. “I’m Lily Walton. I work as a CAD designer for an engineering firm, and I used to work with Patrick. My friend Vanessa and I were in the same sorority together and we used to compete in rowing for that same college but didn’t stay in touch until we met at O’Hare last year. I convinced her to move to Seacouver, and she’s been in the city eight months now.”

“Congratulations,” Patrick said. “Hi, I’m Patrick Wirtz. This is my and Delara’s house. I’m a mechanical engineer who also loves sci-fi and fantasy. Please do not talk to me about _Game of Thrones_, though.”

That garnered a laugh from the group.

The old Persian woman on his right reached out, touching his wrist reassuringly. “Only because you had to watch it all at once,” she admonished him. “We warned you that would hurt.” Before Patrick could do more than sputter, she introduced herself. “I am Banu. My son-in-law does not listen to me, but he will learn.” She smiled serenely, confident. “I hope you enjoy what we have made.”

“It’ll be delicious if it’s anything like last time,” Duncan assured her.

“Better. Richie helped this time. I cannot lift pots the way I used to. Old age in an old body is horrible.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” the lumberjack-type on Banu’s right interjected, “having arthritis at any age sucks. I used to be into a lot of sports, but all those injuries add up. I’m Gordon Daniels, Sean’s husband, and the chief of volunteers for the Ginsley Museum of Natural Arts and Science.”

“Does that mean you get to herd cats for a living?” Loriann asked. “Because I’ve yet to meet a volunteer coordinator who wasn’t about to scream in frustration at the amount of work that needs to be done but won’t get done.”

Gordon groaned. “Don’t get me started, Loriann, but yes. Do you do a lot of charity work?”

“Some. Have to do something or people think I’m one of the lazy rich.”

Richie snorted. “Fat chance of that happening, Loriann.”

“Yes, well. Appearances are everything, don’t you know?” Loriann drawled.

The woman on Gordon’s right laughed. Her short-cropped purple-dyed hair and choice of a dress shirt, black pants, and suspenders made Vanessa think she was someone who preferred to defy convention. “I’d believe that more if I hadn’t known you for the last decade, Loriann. I’m Jessie Mitchell, and I work for a large coffee corporation as a special events coordinator.”

“Which means you do what?” Jasper wondered.

“Anytime the company sponsors a local event or hosts a special event, I’m one of the people who makes sure it happens without a hitch,” Jessie explained.

“Sounds like herding cats,” Gordon noted, grinning.

“Oh, God, don’t get me started,” Jessie said, returning the grin. “But yes. Especially if there’s any celebrities involved.”

“Well, then I won’t ask,” the bearded, heavyset man on her right noted with a smile. “I’m Riker Williams. My parents were really into _Star Trek the Next Generation _when I was born. Me, not so much. I’m a corporate attorney for a medium-sized multidisciplinary architectural and engineering firm. Sharon and I have an eleven-year-old son who’s attending Duncan’s dojo.”

“You didn’t bring him?” Vanessa asked in surprise.

“We don’t allow kids at these dinners,” Delara inserted. “We used to, when Patrick and I started dating, but then we had a friend who wanted to use our house to teach her kids the manners she should have taught them at home.”

“We get it,” Sean noted. “I like having a holiday dinner without the kids. Our kids are loving the fact they’re having dinner at Grandma’s house without us.”

“How many do you have?” Banu asked.

“Two. Eric just turned eight and Jenny’s six,” Gordon said. “I’d argue it also depends on how well you trust the parents, too. If the parents are more interested in talking and drinking than parenting, you won’t have well-behaved kids.”

“If they’re like you,” Delara inserted, “I might reconsider our rule, but we’ll have to discuss it.”

“Understandable,” Gordon said, not sounding offended. “If it helps, we’d be happy to introduce you to them when it’s not a room full of people.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with anyone’s kids,” Lily admitted as the platters of food began to circulate. “I was an only child, left to my own devices. My aunt babysat me and she’s the one who loved and accepted me and encouraged me to be queer and Goth and embrace the way I look.”

“If it helps,” Riker noted, “we didn’t know what to do with a kid at first, either. I don’t know if any parent does.”

“If they grow up with parents who teach them how to care for other kids, it’s easier,” Banu noted. “But I was pregnant with Delara when we escaped Iran, and I remember being terrified of not being able to find the things we needed for a baby when we got here. My English was extremely limited back then.”

“That must have been difficult,” Vanessa said sympathetically. Wanting to change the subject, she asked about the platter of meat and vegetables Banu handed her. “What is this dish?”

“Lamb shanks stewed with onions, turmeric and saffron,” Banu said. “You’ll need the saffron rice, too.”

Vanessa smiled as she took her share of the platter and passed it on. Like everyone else at the table, her plate was full before she took her first bite of food. She had never had Persian food before, but the ingredients were familiar. As she ate, she got to know Duncan better.

“What do you do when you’re not running a dojo and asking random sad women if they need help?” she asked.

Duncan grinned widely. “Whatever I like. I invested well some years ago, so I’ve been able to enjoy my free time.”

“Must be nice,” Gordon interjected, hearing him. “But I imagine you stress over the value of your investments more than most.”

Duncan nodded. “The recent recession was a learning experience.” To Vanessa, he asked, “What do you do for work and for fun?”

“I’m an FAA-certified UAS operator for a company that does drone video filming for real estate, resort and hotel advertising, construction inventory, and structural inspection, and post-production services,” Vanessa said, smiling. “Means I spend a lot of time outdoors, which is what I wanted to do after spending four years stuck in a cubicle pretending that I loved designing plumbing systems.”

“The work you do sounds a lot more technical than using a drone to just play with,” Duncan noted as he took a bite of lamb.

Appreciating his assessment, Vanessa’s smile widened. “Yes, it is. A lot of it is delicate timing, so you get exactly what the customer needs and don’t go too high or too low or film the wrong thing.”

“How did you get into it?” he asked, fascinated.

“Ex-boyfriend convinced me to with him to a job fair back in 2007. We wound up talking to a recruiter for a company that was convinced this was the future. He blew off the interview; I didn’t. Wound up doing a lot of work for the military, got tired of it, and between my mother’s death and my relationship imploding, I figured it was time for change. Lily convinced me to come out here and work for a friend of hers doing civilian work.” Vanessa gestured with her wine glass. “And here I am, eight months later.”

“Do you do weddings?” Sharon wondered, joining the conversation.

“I refuse,” Vanessa said with a laugh, “but my coworker, Brianna, loves them, even the bridezillas. She finds it utterly fascinating. I do the structural and engineering work, so my clients are architects and engineers, who want flyovers of work in progress, inspections, that sort of thing.” Vanessa was acutely aware of Duncan sitting across from her and focusing on carrying her part of the conversation was more difficult than she expected. Still, she had faced military generals and CEOs making more money than she could ever dream: one intensely attractive man should not be a problem.

But he was. Throughout dinner, some part of her brain catalogued what he said, compared it to the waste of humanity who had dumped her over breakfast, and found Duncan superior in every way. She tried to tell herself it was an unfair comparison, since she had thought Ross to be charming, witty, personable, sexy, and fun when they first met, and he’d turned out to be a jerk. Desire burned through her with every look Duncan sent her way, every time he turned his attention to her. Even the simple act of passing a platter or filling her wine glass made heat rise through her.

Duncan noticed, though the others at the table seemed unaware. She was abruptly grateful she was seated between Banu, who seemed more intent on making sure no one starved, and Gordon, who was recruiting Riker to send a group from his company to volunteer at the museum. Lily distracted Patrick, who was catching him up on some of their former coworkers. Vanessa looked down at her plate, realizing she had eaten everything with no memory of taking a single bite.

“Do you want anything else?” Banu asked her.

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m full.”

“We have dessert,” Banu informed her. “Rose and almond pudding with pistachios, and Richie made brownies, too.”

“I’m so full,” Vanessa protested.

Duncan smiled. “Have you ever had Persian rose and almond pudding, Vanessa?”

She hesitated, realizing she might not get another chance. “I could try a bite,” she admitted. “And then probably regret it. Good thing I’m walking a site tomorrow!”

“We like to feed people,” Patrick told her, his expression kind and understanding. “But if you don’t try it tonight, we can send some home with you. It’s better the second day.”

“I don’t know if it would last the ride home,” Lily interjected, to which Patrick laughed. “That stuff is unlike anything I’ve ever had.”

When Delara served dessert, accompanying it with a strong black tea that Vanessa also refused, unwilling to have caffeine so late in the day, Duncan let Vanessa taste a bite of his share of the pudding. The rose flavor was not to her taste and she made a moue of distaste.

“Sorry, but you can have it.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” he agreed. “Probably why Richie made brownies; he knew someone wouldn’t like the pudding.”

“He’s not just an employee to you,” Vanessa surmised, hearing the affection in Duncan’s tone.

“No, he was my ward when he was seventeen. He’s like a son to me.” Duncan glanced over, as if to see where Richie was. Not seeing him, Duncan returned his focus to Vanessa. “I remember when he didn’t know how to boil water.”

“Has it been a long time since he was your ward?” Vanessa asked, thinking Richie looked like he was in his early twenties.

“Over twenty years,” Duncan agreed.

Vanessa looked at Duncan in shock. “He doesn’t look that old!”

“No. He got lucky in that department.” Duncan’s smile widened. “What kind of dessert do you prefer?”

“Those amazing cream puffs you get at some Vietnamese restaurants,” Vanessa answered promptly. “I have to stop myself from pigging out on those. Other than that, I’m not much for sweets. My dad was a diabetic, so I learned early to say no to a lot of sugar, refined, fructose, or otherwise.”

“Was that why you got into competitive rowing?” Duncan asked.

Vanessa laughed. “No. Lily was my roommate my freshman year of college and she was super into it, so she dragged me into it. I fell in love with it. I don’t have the time I used to compete like I did in Virginia, but I know if I don’t stay fit, my body does strange things I don’t like. I imagine if you’re running a dojo, you have to stay at a certain level of fitness just so people don’t look at you weird.”

“Never thought about it that way, but yes, people expect the _sensei _to be in shape,” Duncan replied, chuckling. “Are you enjoying Seacouver?”

“I am, actually,” Vanessa admitted. “My job takes me all over the city, so I’ve been making a list of restaurants I want to check out when I’m not at work.” She took a deep breath before asking, “Want to join me?”

“I’d love to, as long as you don’t mind going on a Saturday evening or Sunday or doing an early lunch during the week. My dojo is open in the afternoon and evenings five days a week, and we’re open on Saturdays until two pm.”

“I can handle that,” Vanessa agreed, and pulled out her phone to get his number.

The party broke up shortly after that, with Banu and Jasper, Delara’s parents, leaving first. Riker and Sharon were next, followed by Jessie. Vanessa offered to help with the dishes, but Loriann, who claimed she needed to justify her existence, rebuffed her offer. Once Loriann had stacked and washed everything that needed washing, she left.

“I could take you home,” Duncan offered Lily and Vanessa.

“Are you close to the South Village?” Lily asked.

“No, unfortunately not,” Duncan said regretfully, “but I don’t mind the drive.”

Overhearing him, Gordon said, “No need. South Village is on our way home; we’re in Interchange.”

“You don’t mind?” Lily asked him.

Vanessa, watching Duncan’s reaction, read his disappointment, but appreciated his graciousness in letting Gordon do the task.

Gordon shook his head. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did. Sean, we’re dropping these ladies at their place in South Village on our way home.”

“Yo, got it,” Sean said, nodding as he put on his shoes. “Delara, Patrick, Richie – thank you for inviting us. Richie, send us the info on the Saturday night dinner. Can’t promise we’ll be here all the time, but it’ll be nice to get out once in a while.”

Delara nodded as she leaned into Patrick’s and Richie’s joint embrace. Quiet satisfaction radiated from them. “Glad to meet you all. Please text us when you get home, so we don’t worry.”

Startled by that request, Vanessa looked at Delara inquiringly.

“We had a friend get into a bad car wreck and no one knew what happened to her until her mother called us, wondering if she had stayed over with us. It made me wish I’d asked,” Delara said easily. “Then we wouldn’t have scrambled to figure out where she was the next day – we’d have known something happened.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Vanessa said. Seeing that Sean, Gordon, and Lily were ready, she followed them out the door, aware that Duncan was watching her go.

Once the door shut behind the group, Richie turned to his friend and former teacher. “See someone you like?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Maybe,” Duncan hedged, unwilling to commit, certain the younger man would do something if he thought it meant seeing Duncan happy. “Delara, Patrick, thank you again.”

“Our pleasure.” Delara stepped out of her lovers’ embrace to hug him. “Be careful going home.”

“I’ll text you when I get there,” Duncan promised. “Richie, are you staying?”

Richie nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the dojo, unless you want to meet up at the Ridge Lake trail for a run and then breakfast.”

“I’d like that. Six too early or would that work?”

“No, we need to be up then anyway if we’re to get to work on time,” Patrick replied. To Richie, he said, “I can’t believe you’re willing to give up sleep to go running.”

Richie just laughed.

Used to their banter, Duncan put on his shoes and grabbed his trench coat, which held his sword, and headed home, Vanessa on his mind.

He was not surprised when Richie texted him later that evening. _Just got confirmation Vanessa and Lily made it home safe._

_Thanks, Richie._

He got an emoji smile in return.


	3. Chapter 3

#### Monday, April 13, 2020

As he expected, Richie grilled Duncan while they ran. “What’s this about meeting Vanessa before?”

“Met her when I ran the Windy Lake trail on Wednesday,” Duncan replied.

“Ah.” Amusement colored Richie’s voice. “All those dating sites you signed up for and you still like the women you run into better than any algorithm.”

“All those dating sites ever gave me were women who wanted a nice night out and a fun time in bed,” Duncan countered. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

Richie snorted. “That would be an understatement. I heard she asked for your number. If she calls, are you interested?”

Duncan glanced at Richie as they ran the Ridge Lake trail. “Do you know something I should know about her from Delara and Patrick?”

“Only that Vanessa lives in Lily’s townhouse, and they were best friends before Vanessa suddenly stopped communicating with Lily. They hadn’t seen or talked to each other in a decade before meeting accidentally at O’Hare.” Richie drew in a breath. “Patrick said he got the impression that Vanessa moving here was her big chance to start her life over.”

“Where was she living before?”

“Alexandria, Virginia.” Richie drew in a breath before adding, “I looked her up on LinkedIn last night. She used to work for one of the big military contractors, the one that is a private military company.”

Duncan grimaced. “That likely means she’s seen things that she can’t talk about or was asked to do something she found abhorrent and left, or both.” He considered the notion. “Wouldn’t be the first time I dated someone with paramilitary experience.” He looked at Richie, who was pacing him easily. “Are you worried?”

“Only because you haven’t been with anyone in several years long-term,” Richie noted. “And you took the breakup of your relationship with Molly Lyttleton hard enough you went home to Scotland and hid out on MacLeod land for five years before Connor dragged you back out.”

Duncan sighed at the reminder. Molly had been a friend turned lover, a woman he had loved deeply and thought worth everything. When she had decided to leave Seacouver and move back home to Perth, he followed her. They had been together a decade before she had declared she was done waiting for the next headhunter, done waiting for him to commit to marriage, and done waiting for the right time to suggest adopting a child or using a surrogate. Duncan had been blindsided – he had thought she didn’t want marriage or children and was fine with the occasional intrusions of immortality – but then she had doubled down on the hurt and claimed he was too arrogant to see when his lover wanted a partner versus a protective ruler. The heartache had been too much; going home to Scotland had seemed the only reasonable recourse.

“It’s too early to tell how this will play out,” he told Richie now. “For all I know, she may decide I’m not Scottish enough.” Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “Do you want to go around the lake one more time? That will make our run eight miles instead of our usual seven.”

“Eh, let’s do a quarter-mile sprint,” Richie countered. “My stomach is reminding me I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

Duncan chuckled. He treasured the friendship he shared with Richie, recognizing the damage he had caused the younger immortal, and the compromises they had made to deal with said damage. Moments like this, though, made him almost forget the shadow of the Dark Quickening, or the way they had spent twenty years living separate lives, connected only by the stories told by mutual friends and rare, random Skype sessions when they could manage the timing.

“You just want to get back in time to kiss Delara and Patrick goodbye before they go to work,” Duncan teased him.

“Do you blame me?” Richie asked, grinning widely.

Duncan laughed. “No. You got lucky, Richie. They’re beautiful people.”

“Yeah, they are. But–” he glanced at his watch “–they’ve already left, so I’ll have to wait until Friday.”

“You aren’t staying over during the week?”

Richie shook his head. “I’m not ready for that. I promised myself I’d give them a year before I did that.”

Duncan looked surprised at that. “Really?”

“Patrick runs hot and cold at times: one minute, he’s clinging, the next, he’s pushing me away. Insisting that I am fine with the way things are, where he gets Delara all the time and me some of the time, reinforces that I won’t play into his anxieties. He could wind me up if I let him.”

Duncan nodded. “I can see that. You want to know if he does the homework his therapist is presumably assigning him.”

“Besides,” Richie flashed a grin, “I like my condo and I like that I’m not in their space all the time.”

Duncan nodded again. Richie loved people, but he also loved being away from them – something that a clingy lover would not understand or appreciate. “When you move, I’ll set it up so you get a share of the rent, since I offered you that condo as part of your compensation.”

Startled by that offer, Richie jerked back. “Seriously? Okay, for that, I won’t race you.”

Shaking his head, Duncan ordered, “Sprint anyway; it’s good practice.”

Richie stuck his tongue out but ran faster. It was a toss-up as to who won, but Duncan pulled rank just to hear Richie debate the issue, his eyes gleaming with feigned insult.

* * *

#### Thursday, April 16, 2020

His mind on his to-do list for the day, Duncan returned from his Thursday morning run. After showering and changing clothes, he checked his phone, finding a voicemail from Vanessa.

“Hi, this is Vanessa. We met again on Easter. If you’re still interested in meeting me for lunch and have time to meet me, I’m eating lunch at the Chef’s Crown Canteen today at 11:30. I know it’s short notice, but we had a last-minute request for a site visit close to there. I’ve heard wonderful things about the CCC’s idea of ‘upscale cafeteria food.’ If you can’t make it, let me know; otherwise, I’ll save you a seat.”

Duncan grinned, liking her even more for her practicality. He looked up where the restaurant was and calculated how much time it would take him to get there and then to the dojo in time to prep for classes. He then sent Richie and his two senior instructors a group text.

_I’ll be late getting in; I have a lunch appointment in the Windy Lake warehouse district. John or Nene, would one of you please help Richie with set up?_

Nene replied, _I’ll be there at 1 pm. If you haven’t checked your messages yet, John’s sick; he asked me to tell you because he accidentally deleted all his contacts from his phone except the last number called, which was me. _

_I’ll stop by his place, make sure he doesn’t need anything, _Richie wrote. _No sense in you getting sick, too, Nene._

_Tell him I said to focus on getting well, _Duncan typed. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to rush through lunch, given that his destination was a half hour drive away from the dojo, Duncan focused on what he needed to do before then.

The drive to the restaurant was slow and frustrating, thanks to heavy traffic. He found Vanessa waiting for him in the lobby. She wore a dark plum blazer over a black tank, black jeans, and gray work boots. At his approach, she smiled and picked up the small backpack at her feet, which had what he assumed was the logo of her employer emblazoned on the fabric.

“Glad you could make it,” she told him. “Have you eaten here before?”

“No, never. I assume you take a tray, tell the lovely people what you want to eat from the steam trays, and then pay at the end?”

“Yes, but this is not standard cafeteria food.” With that promise, Vanessa led him into the brightly lit, cheerfully decorated restaurant.

Duncan quickly saw the restaurant was serving gourmet food, cafeteria style. The menu mixed Vietnamese, French, and American cuisines. After making their selections and paying for their meals (Vanessa insisted on paying for his, since she had issued the invitation), they found a booth in the corner.

“How was your site visit?” Duncan asked.

“Productive,” Vanessa said, cutting into her duck shepherd’s pie and letting the steam out so it would cool. “I like it when I don’t have to get dirty to get the job done.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes, especially on construction-in-progress jobs. I usually wear something I don’t mind getting dirty then, but I always wear jeans and work boots and bring a hard hat along just in case. Today was mostly a ‘okay, you told us what you wanted, but I want to see what I’m filming before I take my expensive toys out of their boxes.’”

“Do you then go back a second time?”

“Usually,” Vanessa admitted. “The purpose of the first site visit is to get info to write the proposal for the work. We can give clients an estimate of what it’ll cost them off what they claim to be true, but we’ve also learned clients don’t always know what they think they know. Like we had a client two months ago who thought his new warehouse was ‘not that big’ but he also admitted he had no idea how big it was.”

Duncan looked surprised at that. “He was building a warehouse and didn’t know its size?”

Vanessa shook her head, amused. “His vice president of operations did, thankfully, and once I talked to him, he realized what the owner wanted was bragging rights to say he paid for a drone video. Frankly, a drone video of a warehouse is a waste of money.”

“Because it’s one huge empty space?”

“Unless it’s a specialty one, where you have refrigeration rooms with different temperature settings or something like that,” Vanessa agreed, nodding. “Once the vice president knew what the boss wanted, he agreed to let us do a drone video for the grand opening ceremony instead of the construction progress.”

“That seems more reasonable,” Duncan noted. He took a bite of his bánh mì sandwich, finding it to be better than he expected, given the cafeteria setup. “You sound like you enjoy the work.”

“I do,” Vanessa said with a nod. “I still can’t talk specifics about some of my projects, but at least what I’m doing is not for the military. I didn’t sign up for some of that bullshit.”

“What bothered you about it?”

“I can handle the secrecy and the lies,” Vanessa said, taking a bite of her shepherd’s pie and chewing it thoroughly before swallowing and continuing, “but what bothered me was the pretense that I was just filming the countryside. I know what I filmed, and I suspect why I filmed precisely what I did. I don’t agree with the notion that a targeted bomb has no collateral damage. If you really wanted a targeted bomb, you’d send an assassin.”

“Would you prefer if the war we’re fighting now was fought with some degree of honor?” Duncan wondered.

Vanessa considered the idea. “Yes, actually. It’s hard to kill a cause. I’m not saying I agree with the ideology of terrorists and radicals, since I consider myself to be a reasonable, logical person – but I grew up with a mother who kept telling me, ‘History is written by the victors,’ and ‘men do things that women have to clean up and make right,’ and ‘the military chooses what it considers a threat, and someday that threat might be you,’ and it’s left a mark.”

Duncan leaned forward, fascinated. “Your mother must have grown up somewhere that was not a free country,” he guessed.

“She was originally from Guatemala; my father was from Puerto Rico. She escaped Guatemala as a young woman, but not before she lived through the beginnings of the civil war. She hated knowing I worked for a military contractor here.” Anticipating his next question, Vanessa said, “She died a year ago. Coming home from her funeral was how I was in O’Hare long enough to run into Lily again.”

“I’m sorry; it’s hard to lose family.”

“Do you have any family still living?” Vanessa wondered.

“Richie’s like a son to me, but I also have an older cousin in New York. Delara and Patrick have adopted me as a sort of in-law.” Duncan grinned.

“I’ve never met anyone in a triad relationship before.” Vanessa shook her head. “They made it seem normal, like they all fit.”

Duncan chuckled. “They’ve had their challenges, but I know Richie. He’s never given any of his past relationships less than one hundred percent.” Wryly, he added, “Sometimes even when I’ve tried to convince him who he’s dating isn’t worth it.”

“You’ve objected to people he’s dated in the past?”

“Considering one of them wanted me dead and I had dated her before, I figured I had every right to object.”

Vanessa stared at him. “Okay, then I can see why you’d be upset. He didn’t want to believe you?”

“He was nineteen then, and cocky.” Duncan waved off the concern. “He grew out of it, but not before we had some arguments. Speaking of upset – mind telling me about the guy who dumped you over breakfast, so I know not to make the same mistakes?”

Vanessa’s lips curved. “The fact you’re asking says a lot,” she noted. “Ross and I met at a club two months ago. He didn’t like the fact I was sharing Lily’s townhouse.”

Duncan frowned. “Why? Rent is expensive in this city, and it sounds like you and Lily have a good friendship.”

Vanessa shook her head. “My guess is he wanted to control me. Me sharing a place with Lily means I always have someone in my life who’d be concerned with where I am, how long I’ve been gone, etc. When I told him that I wasn’t ready to move in with him on Wednesday morning, he dumped me.” She grimaced. “He was setting off other red flags for me, so while it hurt that he dumped me in public, I’m relieved. When you saw me Wednesday morning, I was mourning the loss of the dream I had of not meeting another asshole. I wasted six years with an emotionally manipulative asshole in Alexandria.” She met Duncan’s eyes. “You see, you have a fairly easy bar to cross to start off with.”

“And what do you want in a romantic partner?” he asked her, leaning in, and meeting her gaze.

Vanessa sat back, surprised at the question. “I’ve never had anyone ask me that.” She ate her lunch, using the time to consider the question. “Someone who respects me, supports me, and knows when to let me vent versus always trying to solve my problems for me. Someone who is a great lover and friend, who believes in monogamy and long-term relationships.” She studied Duncan’s expression. “You don’t see that as a challenge.”

“It’s not for me. I want those same things too, but I know actions speak louder than words,” he pointed out, “and you seem like someone who likes to know what she’s getting into before she makes a leap. I can be very protective of the people I care about. I’ve been in long-term relationships before. My longest was with a metal-working artist, who became extraordinarily successful during the course of our relationship. I’m not threatened by a successful, independent woman, but–” he flashed a grin “–I’m going to insist we communicate and come to a compromise we both can tolerate. I’m not poor, but I remember when I was, and I do what I can to help those who are. As for sex and friendship – it’s much more fun when you have both.” He smiled. “And if there’s ever anything you want from me, Vanessa, just ask. If it’s easier to text it to me than face me and ask, I’ll answer it that way, but as much as I embrace technology, nothing replaces a face-to-face conversation.”

Vanessa stared at him, unable to believe he was real and not feeding her the lines she wanted to hear. “And if I said I wanted to indulge in my best _Fifty Shades of Gray _fantasy?”

“Then I’ll tell you I won’t ever treat you like a slave, beat you, or hurt you deliberately,” Duncan said coldly. He took a deep breath before adding, “I was raised to believe that a woman was worth every respect I could give. BDSM is not my kink.”

Surprised by his vehemence, Vanessa eyed him warily. “I’ve never seen anyone get angry over the mention of that. Why does it bother you?”

“Because I’ve seen it used to excuse behavior that is abusive,” Duncan said more evenly. “And it’s not a practice to be entered into lightly or with as screwed-up logic as that stupid trilogy.”

Fascinated, Vanessa leaned in. “You read it?”

“Richie dared me,” Duncan admitted, leaning back and shaking his head. “He claimed it was because he wanted to be sure he wasn’t misreading it, but honestly, I think he did it so he could see my reaction over Skype.”

Vanessa chuckled. “Yeah, I slogged through it too, but on a website that deconstructed its grammar and made it somewhat readable.” She shook her head. “I wanted to be able to say I read it and it was awful. I don’t get the appeal of BDSM, especially under those circumstances.” She glanced at her watch and smiled ruefully. “And as much as I’d like to continue discussing things with you, I need to get back to work.”

“Would you like to meet me at the art museum at 4 pm on Saturday? We could do dinner after.”

“I haven’t been there yet, so I’d love to,” Vanessa said. She reached across the table and squeezed Duncan’s hand. “And in case it’s not clear: I want to date you, Duncan, and see where we go.”

Duncan smiled and lifted her hand, kissing the back of it. “I’m looking forward to it, Vanessa.” He squeezed her hand gently before letting go, enjoying her surprise at his courtly gesture. He rose as Vanessa did the same, then followed her out of the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, suggestions on what happens next, etc. welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

#### Saturday, April 18

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Lily looked up from her tablet as she sat in the living room of her townhouse. Vanessa was dressed in denim leggings, a brightly patterned tunic top, and carried a burgundy faux leather jacket, a purse, and a pair of high-heeled, over-the-knee boots. Seeing she had Lily’s attention, Vanessa asked, “What do you think? Good enough for the museum?”

“Sure, but you’ll want an umbrella. It’s supposed to rain.” Lily paused. “Who are you meeting?”

“Duncan MacLeod,” Vanessa told her, ignoring the suggestion for an umbrella. “We’re touring the museum and then having dinner afterward.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Well, you’ve recovered nicely from Ross, then.”

Vanessa grinned. “Were you expecting any less?”

“No,” Lily replied as Vanessa used the side chair to pull on her boots. She hesitated before saying, “And it’s good to see you seem to be over Scott as well.”

Vanessa grimaced at the reminder of her emotionally manipulative ex-boyfriend, Scott Claire. “Scott wanted someone who would be happy to be his possession. I didn’t realize how bad I was until I saw you.”

Lily nodded, wincing at the memory. “I’m glad I could help get you out.” She rose and hugged Vanessa.

Vanessa smiled and leaned into the embrace before stepping back. “In case I haven’t mentioned it lately: thanks for insisting I needed to go and then changing your flight so you went home with me and made sure he couldn’t get to me, on the off chance he lied about being at a week-long conference.”

“You needed it. He was a creep; I’m glad I only met him the last day we were there. If you’d gone home happy from your mother’s funeral, he would’ve made you feel like you were an awful person for being relieved your mother wasn’t living her demons.”

“And then expected me to give him sex to make him feel better, all the while telling me I should be better at it,” Vanessa added, remembering. “I’m so glad I never married him. Six years of being his girlfriend was bad enough.”

“Not worth further discussion,” Lily declared firmly, smiling. “Have fun with Duncan! Don’t expect to see me until late; I’m going clubbing. Text me if you discover Duncan’s a dud.”

“Doubt it, but I’ll text you anyway when I get home so you don’t worry.”

Since she did not own a car, Vanessa caught a bus to the museum. The rain started as she walked into the lobby of the museum. Her breath caught when she saw Duncan, dressed in a long black leather trench coat, walking towards her.

“Looks like you have great timing,” Duncan told her, nodding to the downpour outside.

Chuckling, she met his gaze, realizing abruptly that her two-inch heels did not completely close the gap in their heights; Duncan was still taller. “How tall are you? I thought if I wore heels, I’d be closer.”

“Six feet,” Duncan admitted. “Don’t feel obligated to wear heels if you’re not comfortable wearing them.”

“No, these are fine,” Vanessa said, waving off his concern. “Just – I’m five-eight, and it’s not often I’m dating someone taller than me. Do we need to buy tickets?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, I have an annual pass, which lets me bring in a guest at no charge.” He gestured to the entrance to the exhibits. “Shall we?”

The first exhibit was a showcase of local artists, which made the collection eclectic. “I never know what to think of these,” Vanessa murmured to Duncan as they made their way through the exhibit. “Some of them are mind-blowingly exquisite creations, but then others just look like something a little kid would be proud to say they made.”

Nodding, Duncan replied, “Art is very subjective, but there are pieces I’m glad to know exist here and not locked behind someone’s door in their mansion, hidden from public view.”

“Given you said you dated a successful artist – is one of her pieces here?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not anymore; they rotated it out of the local artists exhibit since they wanted to focus on artists who were still producing work and could benefit from commissions.”

Vanessa studied Duncan. “She’s dead,” she interpreted. At Duncan’s nod, Vanessa said, “I’m sorry. That must have hurt to receive that notification.”

“Not as much as it would have had I gotten it sooner. I was actually surprised they kept such a massive sculpture on display for as long as they had.”

“How big was it?”

“It was originally intended for a park, but the park commissioner insisted on picking from three works, and Tessa’s didn’t make the cut. It was a tree bending in the wind. The park commissioner picked a giant black ball instead.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What happens to art when it’s removed from the museum?”

“Depends on the art’s ownership. The museum purchased Tessa’s sculpture, so they may be keeping it for a future exhibit.”

“Do you have the rights to her work?” Vanessa wondered as they continued through the first exhibit and into the second.

Duncan chuckled. “I do. Tessa knew her family didn’t know what to do with it and didn’t appreciate her success. They thought I was being foolish for encouraging her to pursue art instead of anything else they considered suitable.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t begin to know how to go about doing that. You must have a lawyer on retainer.”

“It helps,” Duncan acknowledged. “Before the Internet, it was a challenge to figure out on my own who to contact.”

“I barely remember those days,” Vanessa replied as they came to a stop before a painting of a landscape. “I was born in 1978, so I have a vague memory of a lot of not asking questions my parents and teachers couldn’t answer.”

“When is your birthday?” Duncan turned to look at her.

“March 9,” Vanessa answered. “When’s yours?”

“December 21,” Duncan replied. “I don’t usually do too much to celebrate it, since it’s so close to Christmas, but my cousin usually calls me. Richie and I have a tradition of celebrating each other’s birthdays with dinner at a fine-dining restaurant whenever we’re in the same city together.”

“There’s been a few years when mine’s fallen close to Easter,” Vanessa said with a nod. “My parents were horrible at remembering birthdays or holidays, so I got used to them not remembering anything.”

“Not even your mother?” Duncan asked in surprise.

“My mother was physically present in my life, but mentally – she was a mess,” Vanessa said bluntly. “Everyone pretended she was normal, but my father had to hire a combination housekeeper and nanny just to make sure my mother didn’t burn down the house or neglect me.” Vanessa took a deep breath, moving away from the painting. “We had someone break into our house when I was four years old. The incident broke my mother, and she never was the same after that. She thought the Guatemalan police were coming to take her away.”

“I’m sorry.” Duncan reached for Vanessa’s hand, and she took the offered comfort.

“It’s old news. My mom died a year ago, so it was a relief to see her finally find peace.”

“Is your dad still alive?”

“Yes, he’s in a retirement home in Chicago, where he grew up. He wanted my mother buried close to him so he could visit, so she’s buried in Chicago. He sold the house in Virginia when my mom died. He doesn’t understand what I do for a living; thinks I’m playing with toys and that I wasted my college degree.” At his inquiring look, Vanessa elaborated, “I have a bachelor’s in aeronautical engineering. I wanted to design spaceships when I was a kid, but by the time I graduated, the only job I could get was working for a mechanical engineering firm designing plumbing systems. I burned out so hard on that.”

“Are you an only child?”

Vanessa nodded. “My dad told me my mother’s PTSD made it impossible to consider having another child. Are you and your cousin close?”

Duncan grinned. “As close as we can be. Connor is the best friend I have. We usually chat with each other at least once a month over video, sometimes more often if we’re dealing with business. He lives in New York City.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s an antique dealer who also does consulting work for some of the big-name museums.”

“That sounds like a rarefied space to be in,” Vanessa murmured, glancing at Duncan. “I bet you two sometimes consult together.”

“Sometimes,” Duncan allowed. “Depends on what it is. My Japanese history knowledge is more up to date than his is, but he’s a more of an expert at Scottish and Egyptian works than I am.”

“Egyptian sounds a little left field for a Scotsman.”

Duncan’s grin widened. “Not really. The Romans held an empire that stretched from what’s now Britain down to Egypt, west to Spain and Mauritania, and east as far as Albania. One of the great Celtic queens who fought the Roman invasion was from what’s now Wales. What’s now Scotland was known as Caledonia in Roman times. Hadrian’s Wall marks the border between Caledonia and the Roman Empire. Parts of that wall still stand today.”

“In that context, it doesn’t sound that far-fetched,” Vanessa noted. “I hadn’t realized the Roman Empire was that big.”

“There’s evidence now that suggests the Chinese traded with the Vikings, and that the Silk Road was larger than anyone previously thought,” Duncan replied. “We tend to think the world only got smaller with airline travel, but it’s been small for a long time. What’s changed is the speed of travel and the rate at which we get information.”

“One of my professors in college argued that if we wanted a more complete history of engineering, we needed to look at non-Western accounts of it. It made me want to learn how to read Arabic.”

“Did you succeed?”

“No,” Vanessa admitted. “Rowing came first in college and then I joined the local rowing association and agreed to do competitive rowing for years after that. I look back and realize the insanity I was under made me more willing to accept whatever garbage I heard from my last employer and from Scott, my last long-term boyfriend.”

“You worked for the same company out of college?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, but my last employer was Black Knight Industries; they’re a private military company. Is it me or does this painting look like the rabbits are staring right at you?”

Hearing a deliberate shift in topic, Duncan studied the painting in question and resisted the urge to pry. “No, not just you. They look like they’re daring you to make them into dinner.”

“Creepy,” Vanessa decided. “I like rabbit. Well, I like meat. I can’t imagine becoming a vegan or a vegetarian, even though I know too much red meat is bad for you.”

“If you could eat anywhere, where would you go and what would you eat?”

“Oh geez, there are so many good places to eat in this city. I love fine dining as much as I like the food trucks where you never have enough napkins and it’s a messy but delicious mess. I can’t decide. For me, it’s not just the food, but the company. Am I in the mood to eat alone? Do I have to cook it?”

“Do you cook?”

“Only enough to not spend my entire paycheck on eating out,” Vanessa admitted. “Sasha, our housekeeper and nanny, was Russian, so most of what I know how to cook is Russian.”

“Plain, simple, not too fancy, but filling, and often cheap to make, with beets, pickles, and potatoes as the star ingredients.”

“You’ve eaten it then,” Vanessa noted with a smile.

“Yes. I spent some time in Russia years ago. It reminded me a lot of my mother’s cooking.”

“What part of Scotland are you from? Your accent is barely noticeable.”

“The Highlands – the village of Glenfinnan, to be exact. I worked hard to hide my accent, but it comes out when I’m emotional. Richie swears he can tell when I’ve talked to my cousin, because he says my accent changes.”

Vanessa smiled, amused. “I can see that. I picked up Sasha’s Russian accent; she taught me Russian. I’ve had people tell me I sound like a native Russian when I speak the language, not like someone who grew up speaking Spanish and English as my primary languages.”

They paused before a mixed-media sculpture of a bronco bucking off its rider. The sculpture was a papier-mâché horse with a wire-and-leather bridle and matching saddle. The rider was a wire frame of a person. Seeing it, Vanessa frowned. “That feels incomplete.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Duncan offered.

“I spend a lot of my workdays filming things that are in progress of being finished,” Vanessa noted. “I like seeing them done. That sculpture just feels like – a bit like cheating, in my head. Like the artist didn’t want to do a full person.”

“Could be commentary on how people don’t think bronco riders are people in their right minds. It’s a sport now, not a necessary skill for survival.”

“Could be,” Vanessa allowed, shrugging one shoulder. “Does the label on the art say what it is?” She leaned in to see. “Oh. ‘Out of Body Experience’ is the work title. Hmm.”

Duncan chuckled, reading her frustration with the piece. “Guess we’ll never know how correct we are. Want to move to the next exhibit? We have two other galleries to go through on this floor, and then upstairs are the more traditional works.”

Vanessa met his gaze. “Would you hate me if I said I’m not interested in seeing the rest? My stomach just reminded me I skipped lunch.”

“No. The exhibits upstairs are the permanent ones, so if you want to come back here, we can do those then. Richie and I usually go to the restaurant across the street when we’ve finished the museum.”

“I’m game,” Vanessa told him. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, so crossing the street did not require running through the rain.

To Vanessa’s surprise, the restaurant was Le Petit Bistro, one of the city’s well-known and best French restaurants. The maître d’ greeted Duncan as if he was an old friend, which did not surprise Vanessa, given what Duncan had said. The maître d’ led them to a table with a view of the museum.

“This isn’t what I expected when you said, ‘restaurant across the street,’” Vanessa noted as they sat down. A quick glance at the menu made Vanessa relax even more; despite the white tablecloths, the prices were modest, as if the owner understood its main clientele was not the upper class.

Duncan chuckled. “Richie found it. His choices tend to be places where the service and quality of food often exceeds the menu prices. He worked in one of Paris’s top nightclubs for a decade as its head bartender, so he’s pickier than I am about things like that. He jokes that he was a street rat, but it’s not really a joke. He was homeless, a runaway, and a thief on the edge of graduating from the foster system to a life in the criminal justice system when he became my ward.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine taking in someone like that and convincing them to turn their lives around.”

“It was rough,” Duncan admitted. “He tested my patience a lot, especially that first year. We’ve argued over the years over what I think he should be doing versus what he wants to do, but I’m proud of him. It’s a lot easier now that we’ve spent some time apart from each other to agree on what we need to do to run the dojo and how to be friends with each other.”

“Yeah, I stopped staying in contact with Lily because we were too much in each other’s business and I love her like the sister I never had, but – it was ridiculous what we were starting to argue about. I needed a break. I just didn’t think it would be a decade.”

The server came to take their orders. Vanessa ordered the dinner special, not willing to think too deeply about what she was eating as long as it kept her with Duncan. Duncan took a moment longer before he picked a comparable entrée. “Do you mind if I order wine for both of us?”

“No, go ahead,” Vanessa invited. “I freely admit to knowing just enough to distinguish between a Riesling and a pinot noir, but beyond that, I’m much more into liquors. Sasha taught me to drink vodka, tequila, and whiskey when I was sixteen – she wanted me to know what they were so I wouldn’t be tempted by my peers to drink.”

Duncan took a moment to order a bottle of wine for both of them. When the server had left, he asked, “Is Sasha still alive?”

Vanessa nodded. “She’s eighty-seven and in a nursing home, but she tells me how she has to escape and go volunteer at the hospital just to avoid those handsy old men.”

Duncan smothered a laugh. “Oh my. She sounds like she’s a pistol.”

“She and her sister snuck out of the Soviet Union as teenagers and never looked back,” Vanessa said with a smile. “She was more my mom than my mother in a lot of ways. She taught me not to take my parents’ problems as my things to solve and to speak up when I wanted something.”

“Hence your directness about what you want,” Duncan noted.

Vanessa nodded again. “I never understood the games other women play. Seems like saying no when you really mean yes is a recipe for disaster.”

Duncan grinned. “It is.”

She took a deep breath before adding, “Plus, my last long-term boyfriend was an emotional manipulator. Scott was really good at telling me he loved my directness while undermining me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was prime for it because of my mother,” Vanessa admitted. “Lily rescued me and one of the first things she insisted I do was see a therapist so I could unpack my shit.”

“Did it help?” Duncan wondered.

Vanessa nodded. “It opened my eyes. When you saw me in the park, I was more upset that I’d almost fallen for another guy just like Scott. When I get mad, I cry.” She flashed Duncan a rueful smile. “My mother couldn’t tolerate anyone getting mad, so I learned to cry instead.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Duncan assured her.

Vanessa smiled. “Did you grow up with both parents?”

“I was adopted, and they never hid that fact,” Duncan told her. “They thought I was a gift. I grew up surrounded by family.”

“You were lucky, then,” Vanessa noted as their server delivered their orders.

The food they were served was delicious, with a fancier presentation and level of deliciousness than its price tag suggested. “This is amazing. I’d expect this to be in a five-star restaurant.”

“The story I read was that the chef used to run a Michelin-starred restaurant in France, but his daughter wanted to go to Seacouver University, so he moved the entire family here and opened a restaurant that his daughter wouldn’t be embarrassed to take her friends to,” Duncan said.

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “That explains everything. Wow. How long was Richie in Paris?”

“Ten years. He would still be there, but I wanted him to run a dojo with me here,” Duncan explained.

“And he just went because you asked?”

Duncan snorted. “No. Richie and I had a number of conversations about what my expectations of him were both for the business and as friends. He was concerned I’d treat him like he was still living in my house and subject to my rules.”

“Ah. That’s understandable,” Vanessa said, nodding in understanding. “Lily and I talked about what our rules for rooming together were, since it’s her townhouse and I didn’t want to assume anything that was true for our friendship before was true now.” She paused and took a sip of her wine. “One of the rules is no overnight guests without prior discussion.”

“Well, I have my own place, and Richie’s using one of my investment properties as his home.” Duncan smiled. “We won’t be bothered by anyone without an invitation.”

“Not tonight,” Vanessa said quickly.

“I didn’t assume that,” Duncan pointed out, looking unsurprised by her qualifier. “When you’re ready for that level of intimacy, Vanessa, please let me know. I’m willing to be patient for you.”

The promise in his eyes made Vanessa shiver with anticipation, but she made herself hold firm. “I’ll keep that in mind. For the record, I don’t want to rush into intimacy; I’d rather get to know you better first. Do you consider yourself to be religious?”

“I’m Catholic, so yes,” Duncan replied. “But as a student of history, I know what the Church has done in the name of God and I haven’t always agreed with it. What about you?”

“Sasha would take me with her to the Russian Orthodox church every week, so I grew up hearing about God. My mother wanted to go to church but she feared the priest would tell the police, so I rarely went with her. She always counted her beads on her rosary, though, and prayed every night. I think there’s something out there, but I don’t subscribe to one religion. My mother’s God never helped her much.”

“You sound nearly as skeptical as Richie,” Duncan noted. “I won’t try to convert you if you’re not inclined, but you’re welcome to join me at a service anytime.”

“I might take you up on that,” Vanessa said. “I’m always curious to check out other faiths.” She paused and considered. “I’m reassured that if Richie didn’t convert to your faith, you won’t pressure me to do the same.”

“It’s enough for me that you have faith in something bigger than yourself or this world,” Duncan replied. “Whatever you call that entity – God or the ancestors or the Lady or whatever – shows more respect than some people have.”

“We’ve been building statues and temples to pray to the Divine for millennia,” Vanessa noted, gesturing to underscore her words. “I figure that amount of devotion has to mean something, even if that something makes no scientific sense. I just take issue with someone telling me how to worship.” She met Duncan’s gaze. “How do you handle the dichotomy of the Catholic Church’s position on homosexuality and your relationship with Richie?”

“The same way I look at how the Church has long had issues with what they claim to be sinful and yet continues to pretend that the Crusades, the persecution of the innocent, and the denial of aid to the needy and the poor is something they haven’t done. They can’t resolve the dichotomy of their deeds versus the things they preach to uphold. In time, they might change their mind.”

Vanessa took a moment to process that statement. “You’re taking the long view?” she asked in astonishment.

“God knows what I’ve done in my life. He’s the final arbiter – not the Church,” Duncan said calmly. “In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to offset the real suffering I see and hope that what I’ve done and what I continue to do is enough. Besides, I’ve had a few male lovers in my life. I can’t judge Richie without judging myself.”

Stunned, Vanessa took a moment to reconsider Duncan. “You’re bisexual?”

“Yes, but I tend to think of myself as more attracted to women than men. Richie had to explain to me that still counted as bisexual, especially since I see myself as mostly straight.” He paused. “Does that change how you see me?”

“Only in the sense that I’ve never been with a man who wasn’t completely straight.” Vanessa pondered what that meant to her. “And given what I know about you so far, I don’t really see it as a problem. I mean, you dump me for some hot-looking guy, yeah, I’m going to be upset, but probably just as upset if you’d dumped me for some hot-looking woman.”

Duncan smiled, relieved. “I don’t cheat on my lovers, and I don’t share, either. I’ve tried polyamory, and it didn’t work out for me, so it’s not something I want to do again.”

“Been there, done that, didn’t want the souvenir t-shirt?”

Duncan barked a laugh. “Something like that. What about you?”

“I’ve been in a few relationships, but I’m straight and I don’t know how in the world you’d begin to share. I watched Delara, Patrick, and Richie, and I have the sense that what they have is special. My longest relationship was six years. At first, I loved Scott’s possessiveness, but in time, he isolated me, and the work I did for Black Knight Industries only helped his efforts, since I couldn’t talk about what I was doing. Most of the feedback I’ve gotten is that I’m too direct about what I want and how I want it and too independent to boot.”

“Their loss.”

Vanessa shrugged. “I’m not wasting tears or time on them anymore, that’s for sure.” Noting he was done eating, she asked, “Did you want dessert, or should we call it a night?”

“Your call. They do amazing pastries.”

“I’d better not,” Vanessa noted. “I only allow myself one sweet dessert a month.”

“Because your father was a diabetic?”

“That, and I’m just… I don’t want dessert to be the thing I get all the time. I want it to be special – a treat for a celebration. Like paying all my bills on time and not worrying about how much money I have in the bank. It’s taken me eight months to recover from moving from Virginia. Scott siphoned a lot of my earnings off in subtle ways and I didn’t really realize how bad it was until I moved.”

“Moving to somewhere new takes a lot of money,” Duncan agreed, signaling their server, and requesting the check. “Did you bring a lot of furniture?”

“No, I sold or donated everything except my kitchen stuff, my clothes, and a few personal items, since I knew Lily had furnished her house. Lily helped me – she actually flew home with me because she was afraid Scott would convince me not to go. I still wound up renting a storage unit for two months. Big mistake – I quickly realized none of what I was storing was anything I was missing.”

“I’ve had that problem,” Duncan agreed. “I used to keep a residence in Paris and one here in the city because I would winter in Paris, and I’d always leave something in one place, swear I needed to take it with me the next time, and then I’d forget and either buy a replacement or just forget entirely.”

“Why winter in Paris?”

“Tessa Noel, my late girlfriend, was French,” Duncan told her. “Even after she died, it had become habit to go there, so I went. The last time I went, Richie went with me, and he went on to travel the world, and I came back here. I moved to Australia a year later.”

“I haven’t heard of too many people wanting to go somewhere cold in the winter other than to ski,” Vanessa noted. “How long were you and Tessa together that it was such an ingrained habit?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Yeah, going to winter in Paris would be an ingrained habit at that point. You’d have friends and family to see at the holidays.”

Duncan nodded as he glanced over the bill and put his credit card in the check folder.

“I should get home. But I wouldn’t say no if you drove me there. Buses this time of night start to get seriously creepy.”

“Richie calls it the changing of the guard,” Duncan said. “He says it’s when the day people leave and the night people show up, and all the street people come out in force.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t always feel safe by myself,” Vanessa admitted. “Lily says I shouldn’t get so disconcerted by it, but she has that ruthless fairy look to her, so she rarely ever gets bothered.”

“I can see that,” Duncan noted. “But if you want lessons in how to defend yourself, I’d be happy to teach you.”

“Do you offer self-defense lessons?”

“Yes, we do a three-class series every other month for women’s self-defense. Nena, one of my senior instructors, leads it, and Richie and I play the role of ‘big bad dudes’ for it.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” Vanessa murmured, “but I make no promises as to whether I’ll pick your instructor or someone else.”

“Fair enough. I don’t expect you to join my dojo just because we’re dating,” Duncan assured her as the server took the check folio.

“Oh, good. But you’ll tell me which places to avoid, so I don’t get ripped off, and be fair about it?”

“If you want a list, I’ll give it to you,” Duncan replied. “I don’t assume my instruction is the best one for you. Everyone learns differently, which is part of why I hired other instructions with the best qualifications I could find, who meet my standards for communication and who are willing to abide by my rules for ethical, respectful, and caring instruction.”

Fascinated, Vanessa leaned in. “You’d send me to some other dojo if you thought someone else could better teach me.”

“Absolutely. I might feel obligated to watch, if only to learn how I could help you practice, but other than that – your choice. And if you told me to butt out of that part too, I’ll accept it.” He grimaced, remembering Molly. “All I ask is that you talk to me. If you ever change your mind after telling me you’re fine with the way things are or whatever it is, please tell me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Neither am I. I have work stuff I can’t talk about, parts of which are federal secrets, but I know how to talk around those things. I sometimes have nightmares about the drones I’ve launched. I can’t talk about those beyond that sentence.” Vanessa took a deep breath. “I have a deep fear that ICE will come for me because my mother was an immigrant and while I know her papers were good – I have a security clearance and I had to prove my citizenship for that – it still doesn’t feel real, not with the way things have been going politically.”

“I know that one,” Duncan assured her. “I was born in Scotland and am a naturalized American citizen. The last time I went through Customs, I was flying back to Seacouver from Paris. Everything I had was checked twice. Richie said he got hassled by Immigration, too, since he had just renewed his French visa and the agent didn’t believe his answer of ‘I wanted to come home,’ since his English had taken on a French accent from speaking French for ten years.”

“Then you know,” Vanessa murmured. “I said something similar to a coworker here and they thought I was being alarmist.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be concerned,” Duncan noted, and sipped the last of his wine as the server returned with the check folio. “But if you ever want someone to hold you or talk to you after you wake up from a nightmare, I’d be happy to do what I can to help.”

Charmed by his offer, Vanessa smiled. “I may take you up on that. Lily gets it but she just stands in the doorway and tells me gothic fairy tales she makes up on the spot.” At Duncan’s look of surprise, Vanessa explained, “She knows she looks like a fairy sculpture come to life – she says she’s heard people tell her that since she was a little girl – so she learned to embrace it. I keep telling her she should write the stories down and sell them, but she says the market for fairy stuff is saturated.”

“I see.” He put his credit card back in his wallet. “Shall we go?”

Nodding, Vanessa followed Duncan out of the restaurant and then to where he parked his car, then got into the car as he did the same. “How long were you in Australia?”

“Twelve years. I was with someone for most of that time, but they eventually wanted something different than what I had thought we had agreed we both wanted. It blindsided me.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said. “Worse than getting dumped over breakfast?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t think I’ll be going back to Australia anytime soon. But that was six years ago.” Duncan glanced at her and smiled as he started the car. “I tried my hand at those dating apps.”

“Me too – they’re such a disaster. I’ve only met one couple who met through one of those and who stayed married after five years.”

“I’d like to meet one who actually got married,” Duncan replied, which made Vanessa laugh.

“Oh, trust me, they’re out there,” Vanessa assured him. “But all that matters for me is that I’m with you, and I want to see you again.”

“Agreed. How do we get to your home?”

She gave him directions, and they spent the trip discussing what they might do for their next date.


	5. Chapter 5

#### Sunday, April 19

“How was the date with Duncan MacLeod?” Lily asked Vanessa the next day as they ate brunch in a café within walking distance of Lily’s townhouse.

Vanessa smiled, remembering. “One of the best dates I can remember ever having, actually.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Really. What made it different?”

“He listened,” Vanessa noted. “We got to talking about self-defense, and when he mentioned he offers women’s self-defense classes, he didn’t try to sell me on his dojo and his instruction being the best.”

Lily looked at Vanessa skeptically and leaned in. “How come?”

“Because he said not everyone learns the same. What would work for me might be the style he or his staff teach.”

“Huh.” Lily sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowing. “Did he kiss you?”

“No. I said I wasn’t ready for intimacy and he accepted it without pressing for details.”

“He’s gay and likes having a beard,” Lily decided.

“No! I mean, he said he’s bi, but he thinks of himself as being more interested in women than men. I got the impression it would have to be a pretty amazing kind of guy for him to consider it.”

Lily put marionberry jelly on her toast and took a bite, chewing it thoroughly as she thought. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Makes me think he might have assumed the reason Richie was homeless was because he wasn’t straight,” Vanessa said, and took a bite of her French toast.

“Wait, Richie was homeless?”

“Twenty years ago,” Vanessa said. “He was seventeen then.”

“That would make Duncan in his fifties then,” Lily said. “I can’t imagine Child Protective Services would let a guy in his twenties become the legal guardian for someone a few years younger, especially if they aren’t related. Duncan looks damn good for a guy that old.”

“I know,” Vanessa said, sighing dreamily. “I could listen to him talk for hours. He’s so knowledgeable and articulate.”

“Has he ever been married?” Lily wondered.

“No. At least, he didn’t say he has been, but he said he’s been in a few long-term relationships, including one with an artist whose work used to be displayed at the art museum. She died some time ago, but he still has the rights to distribute her work.”

“Well, that’s a commitment,” Lily mused. “Me, I’d probably sell everything and not want the reminders.”

“You’re also ruthlessly practical,” Vanessa pointed out, “and I can’t picture you even falling for an artist.”

Lily barked a laugh. “There’s that. So: nosy questions time. Religion?”

“Catholic, but one who understands the Church as an organization has issues.”

“Car?”

“It’s a gorgeous classic Thunderbird convertible.”

That made Lily pause. “Really? I saw that on the street when we went to Delara and Patrick’s and wondered whose it was.”

Vanessa nodded. “It sounds so nice and he’s maintained it well.”

Lily grinned. “You’ll have to come up with an excuse for me to ride with you and him. Okay, family?”

“Older cousin in New York, and Richie’s like a son to him. Parents aren’t alive, but it sounded like the grief was old enough for it to be something he’d long ago accepted.”

“What does he do when he isn’t working?”

“Runs, watches movies, hangs out with a few friends, keeps up with the stock market and his investments. He said Richie gets him hooked on TV shows and they’ll spend time watching the series together, either before they open the dojo or on Sunday afternoons.”

“In other words, he’s not going to sit and text you every five minutes, wondering where you are and what you’re doing,” Lily translated. “Which is a good thing.” She paused and studied Vanessa a moment. “You’re glowing already, and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.”

Vanessa chuckled softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him, Lily. I want to know more, like what made him such a gentleman, why he chose marital arts as his profession, and–”

“How good he is in bed?” Lily finished.

Vanessa glared at her friend. “You can be so crude.”

“It’s true, though, right? You want to peel him out of those clothes he wears.”

“Yeah, but I want to be sure first.” Vanessa hesitated, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You don’t think I’m being silly for making him wait, do you?”

Lily reached across the table to clasp Vanessa’s hand reassuringly. “You dived headfirst into a sexual relationship with Ross, and he turned to be slime. It’s reasonable for you to want to double-check yourself.”

Vanessa let out the breath she had been holding. “I just hope Duncan really meant it when he said he’d go slow.”

Nodding, Lily said, “Me too, for your sake. Were you going to eat your fruit, or can I steal the cantaloupe?”

“Have at it,” Vanessa said, pushing the small bowl towards Lily. “I hate cantaloupe, especially when it’s out of season.” She met Lily’s gaze. “I know you’re more paranoid than me, but I really don’t think Duncan is like Ross or Scott.”

“Everyone’s got an agenda,” Lily said, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe with her fork. “But seriously, Vanessa – ask him more questions. You need to figure out if his values align with yours before you convince yourself you can put up with them because he’s good in bed or because he looks pretty.”

“I know, I know,” Vanessa said, holding up a hand. “I swear I’ve learned from the last two, Lily.”

“You’d better. I don’t want to have to rescue you again, because then it becomes the thing that defines our friendship,” Lily said firmly.

Vanessa studied her, seeing the worry underlying the resolve. “I promise I’ll ask for help. Did you still want to go grocery shopping after this?”

Nodding, Lily turned the conversation to what they intended to buy so they could plan to have dinner together.

* * *

#### Sunday, May 10

Every Saturday for the next month, Vanessa found herself going on dates with Duncan – twice to dinner, to a movie, and then to see a Broadway play, with dinner and drinks afterward. He was the perfect gentleman, never doing more than kissing her goodnight and holding her hand. The courting drove her wild with anticipation. For their fifth date, he invited her to the Seacouver Spring Ball, a fundraising dinner and dance to help the Seacouver Youth Alliance, which aided homeless and endangered youth. The dinner’s dress code required that she wear a formal ballgown. Wanting help with what to wear but not spend a lot of money on something she might wear once, she enlisted Lily, who in turn brought in Richie.

Shopping always made her nervous, but somehow, knowing how important Richie was to Duncan, made it even more so. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Duncan won’t care how much you paid for the dress as long as you look amazing in it.”

“Really?” Disbelieving, she looked at their surroundings, which was the local outpost of The Triple-R Shop, a regional chain of secondhand clothing stores that donated a part of its proceeds to the largest local food bank.

“Really,” Richie said firmly, and, after perusing the selections, pulled out a dress from the rack.

Vanessa stared at it. The dramatically cut burgundy-colored gown had an asymmetrical high-to-low hemline, a simple bodice, cap sleeves, and a thin silver belt. Further examination proved it had pockets – one of which held a penny. A sniff revealed it smelled faintly of dry-cleaning fluid. “That’s…holy cow, that’s gorgeous. Do you just know how to dress women?”

Richie laughed. “I have a deep-seated appreciation for women, but I do this to men, too. Patrick, my boyfriend, has never dressed better in his life. Duncan and his late girlfriend, Tessa, taught me that the right clothes can make people think you have more money than you actually do. He still likes to remind me I used to own a lime-green leather jacket and was proud of having a pair of jeans with only one hole in it.” He grinned sheepishly. “I thought I was the height of fashion. He taught me otherwise.”

“Richie, you have a magic touch. Vanessa, you have to try on that dress,” Lily insisted, and pointed the way to the dressing room.

Vanessa held her breath even as she went to try on the dress Richie had found. She had not believed Richie’s assertion he could find her a dress she wanted to wear when he directed Lily to drive to this shop. Vanessa put on the dress, looked in the mirror, and fell in love.

“Oh my God, Richie!” Vanessa exclaimed, staring at the way the dress hugged her curves and showed off her body without being immodest.

“Come on, you have to show us,” Lily insisted.

“I can’t get the zipper all the way up.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lily said. “Come out here and I’ll zip it up for you.”

Vanessa stepped out, mindful of the back hem. Lily zipped up the zipper the rest of the way as Vanessa held up her hair so it would not get caught in the zipper.

“Spin around,” Richie told her.

Vanessa did as he asked.

“Yeah, that’ll do. You look amazing in that. Do you like it?”

“Yes. I didn’t even look at the price tag.”

“Even if it was two hundred dollars, I’d buy it for you,” Richie assured her. “Do you have heels? You’ll need them so the back hem doesn’t drag on the floor.”

“Yes, I have black heels.”

“I have some fine jewelry you can borrow,” Lily said, “since I know you don’t buy that stuff.”

“How come?” Richie wondered.

“It’s intimidating,” Vanessa admitted. “I don’t know what to buy.”

“If Duncan bought you jewelry, would you be offended?”

Vanessa shot him a worried look. “Please tell me he wouldn’t do that.”

“If you don’t want him to, Vanessa, you need to tell him,” Richie warned her. “He assumes most women like fine jewelry, good lingerie, and being treated like a queen. I know he gave Tessa, his late girlfriend, a lot of jewelry. I inherited some of it; I’ve been waiting to give it to the right woman because of how special Tessa was to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Vanessa,” Lily admonished her. “Let the man shower you with diamonds if he can afford it. It’s not like you wouldn’t be able to sell them later if you two didn’t work out.”

Richie looked at Lily. “You look like a Goth fairy princess and sound like a ruthless pragmatist. No wonder Patrick likes you.”

Lily laughed. “My parents weren’t frivolous people. If it weren’t for my aunt, I probably wouldn’t have learned to embrace what I look like.” She turned to Vanessa. “So, is the dress a keeper or should we keep looking?”

“No, let’s go with this. If I don’t get it, I’m going to probably regret it and wish I’d gotten it.”

“Just for the record, Vanessa – we can ask them to hold it while we look elsewhere. If you wanted something more tailored, I have a tailor I can contact.”

“No,” Vanessa refused. “I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be a rush job in that case and I don’t want to put anyone out.” She studied Richie. “Or does Duncan know you’re helping me and is going to pay for my dress regardless?”

Richie shrugged. “He knows I’m helping you, but I talked him out of paying for it. If it were up to him, he’d have you at our tailor, getting a custom-made dress, and you’d never see the price tag.”

Astonished, Vanessa stared at Richie. “But why? Do appearances mean that much to him?”

“No. You do,” Richie said. “Vanessa, Mac has money. He likes to spend it on his lover and his friends. It’ll only eventually frustrate him if you never accept the kinds of gifts he can give.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, and went back into the dressing room to change, ruminating on what she had been told. She had never dated a man with more than enough money, she realized. _One more thing to learn to accept about Duncan_, she told herself. _Good thing he doesn’t act like an entitled asshole; it’s easy to forget he has money because of that._

The dress wound up costing Richie $25, which Vanessa suspected was a fraction of its original price.

As they exited the store, Vanessa asked Richie, “Are you as well-off as Duncan is?”

Richie chuckled. “I’m not hurting for money, no, but I still have to work for everything I have. I can spend a little more than someone earning the same salary as me because part of my compensation is that I don’t have to pay Duncan rent on the condo I’m using.”

“Oh, where’s your condo?” Lily asked as Vanessa handed Richie the dress to lay across the portion of the back seat of Lily’s car he wasn’t occupying.

“It’s the penthouse in the Wilburton House downtown,” Richie said.

Recognizing the address, Lily and Vanessa exchanged addresses. “Wow, that’s a ritzy address,” Lily exclaimed.

“Yeah, he bought it before he moved to Australia, so he was renting it out for a long time. We had to do some repairs to the interior before I could move in; the last tenant apparently hung a bunch of stuff on the walls.” He waited until Lily and Vanessa had both gotten into the car before continuing his conversation. “Honestly, I was a little surprised Duncan wasn’t living there, but he’s always liked being closer to his work than I do.”

Lily started the car and exited the parking lot.

“Are you sure the dress not too much?” Vanessa asked Richie as Lily drove them back to her townhouse.

“Vanessa, you’re beautiful,” Richie told her patiently. “Mac wouldn’t give you a second look if he didn’t think you were. That dress is just pretty packaging so he can unwrap you later.”

Seated in the front passenger seat, Vanessa used the vanity mirror to look at him. “I’ve never heard anyone phrase it that way.”

Richie laughed. “Mac taught me a lot about what real beauty is. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met was a stunningly attractive woman physically – as in, the kind that you see in magazines, modeling clothes. Inside, though, Kristin was shallow, vain, and scheming. She used me – and I didn’t want to listen to Mac, because I was nineteen and didn’t want to think about why he might know why I shouldn’t trust her.”

Fascinated, Vanessa asked, “What was the reason?”

“He had dated her years before and had fallen victim to her charms the same way I had,” Richie replied.

“That would feel weird, knowing I dated someone a friend had dated before,” Lily interjected.

“Still does, and it’s been more than two decades,” Richie admitted. “The circle of friends we share is very interconnected. The good part of it was that while we weren’t directly talking to each other for most of the time I was in Paris, we knew generally what the other was doing and how to get in touch with each other. We did Skype occasionally.”

“Did you have a falling out?”

“Not really. It was more a matter of timing. I wanted to do more traveling than just to Paris and back here, and he wanted to go back to Seacouver. He went back and I lost touch. By the time I settled in Paris and found a job at a nightclub a mutual friend owns, he was in Australia. Calling him was a logistical nightmare, and I admittedly didn’t want him to judge me for the things I’d done.”

“Is he judgmental?” Vanessa wondered, abruptly worried.

“He had grand expectations for me,” Richie said evenly. “I’m the closest thing he has to a son, and he pushed me to meet or exceed those expectations. I disappointed him repeatedly when I was in my early twenties. By the time he came to ask me if I wanted to run a dojo with him, I was afraid he wouldn’t accept me and see that I’ve grown up and changed, even if we’d been communicating more and had been getting along well.”

“I can see that,” Vanessa said after a moment. “Is there a reason he doesn’t have other children?”

Richie hesitated before replying. “He can’t have children naturally. I hope you weren’t hoping for that.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said. She considered the idea. “I’m forty-one years old. I’ve thought for a while now that if I was going to have kids, the time to have them would’ve been when I was pouring my heart and soul into rowing competitions and my job.”

“Good thing you didn’t have him with that asshole, Scott,” Lily interjected as they sat at a light, waiting for it to turn green.

“Who’s Scott?”

“The guy I was with in Alexandria for six years,” Vanessa said. “Scott Claire was one of those guys who’d get upset I was doing this sort of thing with you, Richie, and then grill me about whether you touched me inappropriately. Then he’d whine about how much the tickets to this charity event cost and how he absolutely would need a new suit so my outfit wouldn’t outshine his.”

“Please tell me this guy is dead,” Richie pleaded. “Or you at least did something vindictive to him.”

“I sold or donated all the furniture in his apartment, since I bought it all,” Vanessa said wolfishly. “It was Lily’s idea.”

“Yeah, we called 1-800-GOT-JUNK to get everything that didn’t get picked up by people on OfferUp,” Lily said. “He was at a week-long ‘conference,’” Lily used two fingers to indicate air quotes, “so we were able to get everything out. We left him the mattress, box spring, and a lamp. He walked into the apartment just as we were leaving.”

Richie reached forward and offered her his right hand to fist bump, which Lily did before accelerating through the light, then to Vanessa, who bumped fists with him. “Remind me never to piss off you two.”

Lily laughed. “Find me a sweet pansexual woman who likes Goth fairy princesses and isn’t scared off by my friendship with Vanessa, and I’ll likely forgive you for a hell of a lot.”

“Do you like very butch women?” Richie asked, and Vanessa chuckled.

“Don’t bother trying to match her with someone looking for forever,” Vanessa advised him. “Lily likes the ones who like one-night stands.”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed. “But if you know someone….”

Richie laughed. “I make no promises under those circumstances. I went through a period where I was definitely, emphatically, and absolutely not looking for anyone interested in forever. One too many people in a row breaking my heart was enough for me.”

“Yeah, well, my deal breaker is I bought my townhouse when I was a few years out of college,” Lily revealed. “People expect me to give that up. Like, I know my neighbors; I like them, and I’m part of my HOA. Why on earth would I give that up?”

“I can see that,” Richie agreed. “I like living downtown; I like the view I have.”

“Do you plan to move in with Patrick and Delara?” Lily asked as she made a left turn.

“Not for a few months at least. We’ve only been together since August of last year. It feels too early.”

“Forgive me if I’m being too nosy, but why two people?” Vanessa asked.

“I’m a high-energy person,” Richie admitted. “I can wear out a person; it’s a complaint I’ve heard from several of my former lovers. Duncan told me I’ve always been more than what one person can handle. It’s not easy, but Delara and Patrick are worth it to me.”

Vanessa considered that before responding. “I’ve never met anyone in a polyamorous relationship that I knew of.”

“It’s not like we advertise it, but since you came to Delara and Patrick’s home, we like to warn people,” Richie noted. “I don’t pretend when I’m at home with them. If we’re out somewhere public, where there’s some sort of risk of misunderstanding, I’m more circumspect.”

“You stand really close, though,” Lily teased him as she turned onto her street. Richie had parked his motorcycle on the street so she could pull up into the single-car garage under her unit.

“Yeah, well, I never claimed to be perfect,” Richie noted dryly. “Vanessa, I know we said this was just to get your dress, but I want to be sure you understand something. If you have questions or concerns about Duncan, you have my number now. Feel free to contact me. If someone hassles you about him or tells you they need you to go to him and wants you to go with them, call him or me right away. Don’t believe them.”

“Why?” Vanessa frowned.

“Like I mentioned: Duncan has money, enough wealth that back when they used to run a ‘Seacouver’s Most Eligible Bachelors List,’ he used to be on it all the time because he’s known as a wealthy philanthropist. His choices have made a few enemies over the years, and they’ll say and do anything to hurt him. Some of his enemies expect him to do more with his money than just run a small business and contribute to helping those who need help the most with food, shelter, and safety.”

“Oh.” Vanessa decided it made sense. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m serious, Vanessa. He’s had death threats,” Richie insisted. “Promise me you won’t trust anyone who isn’t Duncan or me when it comes to rumors of his health and safety.”

Turning, Vanessa looked back at Richie, seeing the seriousness on his face. In that moment, he did not look like a twenty-something man, but someone much older. “I promise,” she vowed.

“I’ve heard of people protesting the one percent,” Lily noted as she shut off the engine and unlocked the car, “but death threats? Wow. That’s a new level.”

“Yeah, it’s something else,” Richie agreed as he, Vanessa, and Lily exited the car. “I had one of those fanatics kidnap me to get to Duncan.”

“Did Duncan blame you for it?” Lily wondered.

“No,” Richie said, surprised at her assessment. “What kind of people did you have as parents that that’s the first thought you had, Lily?”

“The kind that blamed me for things out of my control,” Lily said cheerfully. “My aunt was my saving grace.”

“That explains everything,” Vanessa noted dryly. “Richie, you said you had to be somewhere at four?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Mac for a private lesson and dinner.” Richie hesitated before saying, “I wouldn’t mind getting some coffee if you two wanted to hang out a little more.”

Focused on making sure she had locked the car, Lily nodded before Vanessa said, “We’d love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, the Triple-R Store is like the Value Village chain, and their commercials are something like, "If you're going reduce, reuse, and recycle, why not start with your clothes? Come to the Triple-R, where you can donate your clothes and home goods, and find new treasures everyday!"  
...yes, I spent way too much time on this one detail. Oops. ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of religious beliefs and explicit sex in this chapter. :-)

#### Saturday, May 16

The following Saturday, Duncan took Vanessa to the ball. She felt like a princess in the burgundy gown, especially when Duncan proved to her that she could dance to anything if she trusted her partner. When he parked in front of Lily’s townhouse and led her to the door, she kissed him thoroughly, hoping he would decide to just take her home with him – but he pulled back, breathing heavily.

“You said you wanted to go slowly,” he reminded her.

Vanessa’s eyes widened. She had not realized he would take her that seriously. Inhaling deeply, she let out a breath. “I did. What if I changed my mind?”

He smiled, his eyes glittering with desire. “Have you?”

“Yes,” Vanessa said firmly. “I want to go home and make love with you. I’m on the pill, but I’d prefer if we used condoms.”

Duncan nodded once, then took her hand and led her back to his car. He held her hand as he drove them to his apartment, which, to her surprise, was in a three-story building where a retail store was on the ground floor. When Duncan parked his convertible in the paved lot behind the building, she read the notice that parking was reserved for tenants and visitors only, and violators would be towed. A second sign for something called ‘Mary’s Closet’ pointed the way to the front of the building; Vanessa assumed that was the name of the shop.

Duncan unlocked a door on the far right-hand side of the building, bypassing a door marked “Mary’s Closet’ – Authorized Access Only.” Vanessa assumed that door was the back door for the shop. Following Duncan inside the building, Vanessa saw it was a small lobby with an elevator and a staircase beside it. Ignoring the staircase, Duncan led the way into the elevator. Operating the elevator required a key, and the elevator went to both floors. She noted Duncan bypassed the second floor for the third.

“Do you only have the third floor?”

“No, I have both the second and third floors. I’ll give you the tour if you want, but I thought we could skip that. Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

Vanessa chuckled and leaned into him. “No, I’m fine; we can tour your place later. How big is it?”

“About three thousand square feet,” he told her.

The elevator opened, and they stepped out into a hallway. Part of the second floor was open, giving the living room a vaulted ceiling. Duncan led her past a large open area, a guest bedroom, a laundry room, and then through the French doors of the enormous master bedroom. All the floors were hardwood; her heels echoed on the surface as they walked.

When Duncan turned on the lights, she saw that the room was big enough to have its own reading nook, complete with a gas fireplace. Two wooden nightstands flanked the king-sized bed, which was covered by a dark blue quilt. A large landscape painting hung over the bed. To her right was a glass wall, through which she could see the bathroom. From what she could see, someone in the soaker tub or standing at the sink could look into the bedroom.

“That’s…different.” Vanessa had never seen a bathroom so visible from a bedroom. Part of her — the piece of her that had listened to beauty advice and to her last long-term boyfriend — wondered if she was brave enough to be that immodest.

“The glass has a built-in window shade that can be operated with a button from the tub,” Duncan told her, amused. “It’s very quiet, so the glass bothers you, you can close the blinds.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vanessa noted. Wanting to stop thinking about it and how the whole apartment spoke of money and privilege, she kissed Duncan.

He took the hint and kissed her back. The dress Richie had found for her fell to the floor, and she impatiently fought through the buttons on Duncan’s tuxedo, which soon joined her dress. He took a moment to don a condom from the box in the nightstand drawer. Naked, Duncan laid her down on the bed, pushing aside the covers. He used his tongue and hands to taste and fondle her body, learning what made her gasp and sigh. When she tried to return the favor, he told her, “This time is for you.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. Based on her earlier lovers, she expected to give oral sex and get little in exchange. “I thought guys always wanted oral sex,” she told Duncan.

“Later,” he promised her. “If you do that to me now, I won’t be good for much.” He kissed her and then, moving downward, continued to distract her from thinking too deeply about anything but the way he tasted and tongued her inner folds. Slowly, tenderly, he made love to her, as if she was the first woman, the last woman, the only woman who mattered.

Vanessa had never had a lover so focused on bringing her pleasure – and who enjoyed seeing her crest passion’s peak, again, and again. She was breathless and aching for Duncan by the time he slid his cock into her, completing their union, and so blissed on pleasure she almost believed she couldn’t go any higher. But higher still they climbed the mountain of desire. She clung at Duncan’s broad back, gasping and shuddering, even as she tried to meet his thrusts halfway. With a whimper of surrender, she shuddered through one final orgasm, crying out Duncan’s name. Duncan followed her a moment later.

Somehow, he dropped a kiss on her lips as she lay dazed and stunned. She had always prided herself on being a passionate woman, but this was a new level of pleasure she had heard about but never imagined she could reach.

In the aftermath, he held her close.

“So beautiful, Vanessa,” he murmured. “Did I wear you out?”

Vanessa leaned into the comfort of his embrace, unwilling to break the spell by talking. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she could compete.

He chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a yes. Rest. I’ll be back in a moment.” He kissed her, then rose to deal with the condom. Judging from the footsteps on the hardwood floor, she surmised he went to toss the condom in the bathroom trash.

When he returned, he slid his arms around her. Unwilling to admit she felt like she was dreaming, she returned the kiss, wanting more. He stretched out on the bed and let her explore his body. He taught her he liked having his nipples played with – something no other man in her experience had ever enjoyed – and that he did not mind if she only could suck on the head of his cock as long as she stroked the rest. Remembering he had said he had male lovers, Vanessa dared to stroke his perineum as she sucked on his cock, and watched as he arched into the touch, whimpering with pleasure.

The long-held hope she had harbored of finding a lover like Duncan burst with joy. She had always wanted a lover who let her give him as much pleasure as he gave her, instead of sticking to a standard script wherein she got him ready to fuck her and let her pleasure be a secondary thought. Never had Vanessa had a lover who made it known with every whimper, every groan, every breathless word of instruction, that what she was doing was more than ‘good enough’: it was bliss.

“I’m close,” Duncan warned her, and she pulled off, not wanting to swallow his release. Leaning back, she pumped his cock until he groaned as his seed spilled over her hand.

Pleased by her efforts, she leaned forward to kiss him, mindful to avoid the mess on his lower body.

He kissed her back deeply before telling her, “Thank you.”

Startled, Vanessa asked, “Why?”

“Because I don’t take what you give me for granted,” he told her. Her heart, already on the verge of falling, took the leap. “Because I never want to forget you choose to be here with me.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said lamely.

Duncan kissed her reassuringly, then led her to the bathroom so they could clean up – not that it mattered much. Having had a taste, Vanessa wanted more, and Duncan shared the sentiment. They got little sleep that night.

By the time he showed her how to work the blinds in the bathroom, it was already Sunday morning and Duncan had shown her repeatedly that he thought her body was beautiful and desirable, and that, as a lover, she was more than good enough to suit his taste. By then, Vanessa no longer cared about the glass wall. All she could think about was how she felt like she was living in a fantasy come true.

The bathroom also had a second vanity, a separate shower, a heated floor, and a bidet in addition to the standard toilet. It easily counted as the largest, most lavish bathroom Vanessa had ever used other than in a luxury hotel suite. Unwilling to wear her dress again until it was time to leave, she borrowed a button-down shirt from Duncan. She enjoyed the heated look he gave her when she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in the shirt and her panties.

Going downstairs so Duncan could cook her breakfast proved he liked an open floor plan. The entire main floor was open, with furniture and appliances defining use, so the kitchen, dining, living, and den areas all flowed into one another. Large windows let in plenty of light, though she noticed all had heavy-looking velvet curtains for privacy. Sculpture, vases, and paintings were scattered thoughtfully throughout the two floors, and none of it looked like the reproduction or inspired-by stuff she had once bought at Pier 1. The only doors on the main floor of the apartment were to closets, judging from the style and size. Seeing another door that looked like a front door, she asked, “What does that lead to?”

“Down to the side of the building, but I’m not supposed to use it. The staircase and decking aren’t properly bolted to the side of the building and a few steps are missing or cracked. The city code permit official won’t let me fix it without a contractor’s license. Since I tend to use the back door and all my deliveries go to the dojo, hiring a contractor to fix it hasn’t been a priority. I also wanted to wait until it got a bit warmer to tackle that project.”

“You know how to build stuff?”

Duncan nodded. “I’ve renovated houses before. I’ve learned not to touch commercial properties; there are invariably local codes I didn’t know existed. Coffee?”

“Sure,” Vanessa agreed as she took a seat at the island breakfast bar. Though she was no expert, the countertops and appliances looked like something out of a high-end kitchen catalog. “Anything I can do to help?’

“Tell me how you like your eggs,” Duncan said promptly.

“Scrambled, and if you have onions and cheese, all the better.”

“Any objection to ham?”

“No. I like to eat,” Vanessa admitted. “Cooking, not so much, but I don’t mind chopping and helping prep stuff or washing dishes.”

Duncan flashed her a smile as he started a pot of coffee, then retrieved a skillet, a mixing bowl, a carton of eggs, a block of cheese, green onions, a whisk, butter, spices, and assembled breakfast. “Did you do a lot of cooking growing up?”

“Some,” Vanessa shrugged. “I don’t know if I mentioned it or not, but Sasha, my nanny, taught me to cook Russian food. She also wanted me to know how to take care of myself so I wouldn’t starve or go broke or be ignorant about things like coupons or how to take care of blood stains on my underwear. My mother would have periods where she would appear to be fine and be the best mother possible – braiding my hair, helping me pick out what to wear, teaching me how to make Guatemalan food – and it would always precede a meltdown. It was exhausting, and I tend to associate cooking with that.”

“If you’re ever interested in making new memories,” Duncan said carefully, pausing in his scrambled egg preparation to pour her a cup of coffee, “I’d be happy to teach you or help you learn a new recipe.”

Vanessa considered as she sipped her coffee. Judging from the way he had been open in his lovemaking and from the conversations they had shared, she doubted he would think she was an idiot in the kitchen. Still, caution made her hesitate. “I’ll think about it. Do you mind if I help myself to some cream?”

“No, make yourself at home. Should be a carton of half-and-half in the fridge, unless you mean heavy cream, in which case I’m out.”

Vanessa rose and helped herself to the carton of half-and-half. “No, half-and-half is fine. Heavy cream is too thick for coffee in my book. I can do toast if you want.”

“No toaster, sorry. The last one I owned burned everything I put in it, even on the low setting, and I haven’t bothered to replace it yet.” He did, however, grab a pan, put four pieces of bread on it, turned on the oven, and put the pan in the oven.

“Ah. How old was it?” Having doctored her coffee, Vanessa sat down.

Duncan chuckled. “Old enough to be a fire hazard. I didn’t know those things had crumb trays you should clean out.”

“Neither did I until I accidentally popped one open.” Amused, Vanessa watched as Duncan expertly made scrambled eggs, dividing the pan into two portions, and serving her part on a plate he grabbed from the cabinet to the left of the stove. He pulled out the bread he had toasted in the oven and gave her two slices. He served himself toasted bread and eggs, then handed her a fork from a drawer on the opposite side of the kitchen island from where she sat and a paper napkin from the holder on the island. He handed her the dish of butter and, after retrieving it from the fridge, a jar of strawberry jam, and a butter knife and a spoon, which he pulled from the silverware drawer. He then poured himself a cup of coffee and joined her at the island.

Vanessa tasted the eggs; they were seasoned well, with a hint of thyme and pepper, and fluffy even with the chopped onions, ham, and cheese. She buttered her bread, ignoring the jelly, and then took a bite.

“Not a fan of strawberry jam?”

“Grape is more my flavor,” she admitted. “I like the purple jams the best. Lily introduced me to marionberry, and I nearly died – I didn’t know that berry existed.”

Duncan chuckled. “I like most fruit. I got in the habit of buying strawberry because Richie likes it, and he sometimes exists on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Does he come over often?”

“Not as much as he first did when the dojo was new. We opened it last April, and he came back to Seacouver the month before. He still visits, but he has friends here other than Delara and Patrick, and he’s been reconnecting with those people.”

“So it’s more like the emergency jar of jelly. I notice you aren’t opening it.”

Duncan chuckled again. “Something like that. There have been a few times when it’s been a late enough night at the dojo that he’s crashed here rather than drive home; his condo is downtown.”

“How far is the dojo from here?”

“Three blocks. Originally the plan was to put the dojo on the first floor of this building, but the vintage clothing store downstairs had an existing, recently renewed ten-year-lease written as a condition of sale. If I wanted this apartment, I had to honor that existing lease.”

“What about the building where the dojo is?”

“It’s a single-story building. When I was researching properties, I had the choice to put the dojo downtown, close to the condo Richie is using as his home, or put it here, where there are more families. Downtown would have gotten me more adult students, but I would be dealing with more early morning and lunchtime classes, more chance of someone being late or missing a class, and the general headache that comes with running a business in the downtown core. I’ve done it before, but that was when the city was more interested in keeping small businesses in that area.”

“They aren’t now?”

“Not when we’ve had several major tech companies move into downtown. One of them just built a thirty-story building for their use.”

“I did the drone survey for the official opening of that building,” Vanessa noted. “I hadn’t realized just how many buildings weren’t skyscrapers here. You see them all the time on the East Coast.” She ate more of her breakfast.

Duncan nodded as he took a bite of his eggs. “When that kind of money moves into a downtown area, small businesses aren’t as interesting to a city because you don’t need them the way you used to.”

“But I’d argue you need them more,” Vanessa said, frowning. “You need restaurants, dry cleaners, healthcare providers, and all the things someone might want to try to get done during the workday because they’re stuck downtown, and they live outside that district.”

“You won’t get an argument from me on that,” Duncan agreed. “But out here, I get the people who live here, or they work here, and the attendance is more consistent. Richie argued that the people who do work downtown and live here would want classes in the evening and on weekends, at times that allowed them to commute home. So far, he’s been right.”

“You sound a little surprised.”

“He helped me run a gym where we offered martial arts classes as well as fitness training,” Duncan said. “I bought it after Tessa died. It was a very emotional time for both of us, and I didn’t think he paid as close attention to managing it as it turns out he did.” He shook his head. “He likes to surprise me.”

Vanessa ate more of her eggs. “He looks like someone who might let people assume he’s too young to do things.”

Duncan barked a laugh. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes I’m just guilty of assuming he hasn’t changed or grown up.” He offered Vanessa a rueful smile.

“You really have known him a long time, then. I admire your friendship. Few people would choose to see a young thief worthy of redemption or continue to be there for that person once they’ve fulfilled their legal obligation.”

“I couldn’t walk away. More coffee?”

“Please. I know it’s Sunday and you said you were Catholic. Were you planning on attending service today?”

“Not the morning mass. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go and I thought you might want to be better prepared for it if you did.”

“But you’ll go to another one later?”

Duncan nodded. “There is a 5:30 pm mass at St. Michael’s. Don’t feel like you need to rush out on account of my religious needs, though. I’d rather spend time with you, getting to know you more.”

Vanessa hesitated. “Why do I get the sense you have a very interesting definition of what it would take to keep you out of Heaven?”

He shrugged. “God is all-seeing and all-knowing. I can’t change what I’ve done, but I figure as long as I go to His house and pay my respects, He won’t care whether I go in the morning or in the afternoon.”

“Or if you spent the day acquiring more personal information about your girlfriend’s likes and dislikes?” Vanessa asked archly. “And maybe skip one day?”

“Exactly my thoughts. Are you finished with breakfast?” At her nod, he reached over, took her coffee cup, set it down, and then leaned over and kissed her. All thoughts of church and any further conversation quickly vanished from her mind.

When she finally checked her phone later that evening, she saw she had several calls from an unknown number. They all had disconnected without leaving a voicemail. Dismissing the calls as being spam, she thought nothing of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos = love. I really enjoy hearing from my readers!


	7. Chapter 7

#### Sunday, June 14

Richie parried Duncan’s attack as Delara asked, “Why haven’t you brought your girlfriend to dinner with us yet, Duncan?”

Duncan barked a reluctant laugh as he tried to focus on pressing the attack. “You told them about Vanessa?”

“It’s been two months,” Richie said as he disengaged his sword from Duncan’s and stepped back. “Figured if you haven’t thrown her back into the sea yet, she was fair game to discuss.”

“Oh, it’s Vanessa?” Patrick asked, amused. “Lily’s best friend, Vanessa?”

“How many Vanessas do you know?” Duncan countered, as he continued to poke holes in Richie’s defense.

“One, but we’re in a big enough city,” Patrick replied, leaning back in his chair.

Joe, who sat in the chair to Patrick’s right, snorted. “No, it’s the same one. _I _haven’t even met her yet.” He sounded insulted, and Duncan risked a look to see if Joe meant it. Seeing Joe’s expression, which said he had Watched Vanessa and Duncan out on a date several times without having been introduced to her yet, Duncan sighed.

“We can fix that,” Delara said promptly. “Saturday night dinner. We’ll keep it to this group and her so you can talk freely.”

“No,” Richie argued, “not if Mac hasn’t told her about immortals yet, which he won’t until it’s absolutely necessary, right?”

Duncan grimaced, but nodded. “Right.”

“We’ll just go to Joe’s on Saturday. That’s where you’re taking her next Saturday, aren’t you, Mac?” Delara said reasonably.

“If I wasn’t, now I am,” Duncan groused. “If I don’t, you’ll just hound me until I either go there or bring her to your weekly dinner. You are horrible friends.”

Patrick laughed. “No, we’re not. Though maybe you should be paying better attention.”

Duncan frowned at him in time for Richie, who had gotten enough distance away, to toss his dagger at Duncan. The throw landed solidly in Duncan’s gut, making him double over in pain and make a sound of surprise.

Richie grinned at his mentor’s reaction as he told the peanut gallery, “Thanks for helping distract him.”

With an effort, Duncan pulled out the dagger, ignoring the peanut gallery’s comments. “You’re getting better at throwing that,” he told Richie, who nodded acceptance of the compliment. “But I’m strong enough to come back and now you’ve armed me with your dagger. What’s your next move?”

Chuckling, Richie told his teacher, “You assume I’m not going to make the most of that move, but let’s play worst-case scenario, and show me what you think I should know.”

Nodding, Duncan did that. His friends’ interest in his girlfriend made him realize he had overlooked that detail. Introducing them meant getting one step closer to revealing immortality to Vanessa. He was not entirely sure either of them was ready for that. Memories of how his last disclosure had gone made him hesitate. Given he saw no reason to rush the disclosure, he wanted to do what he had always done: wait until it became necessary. He knew, however, that Richie had always been more on the side of sooner-rather-than-later. Given her previous employer had been a private military contractor, Vanessa could handle secrets; that part was not what worried Duncan. He was more uncertain if she could handle this kind of world-changing secret, and that uncertainty made him err on the side of non-disclosure.

* * *

#### Friday, June 19 6 AM

“Are you going to spend Saturday night at Duncan’s again?” Lily asked as she put a smoothie together for her breakfast in the kitchen of her townhouse. She dumped kale, spinach, bananas, sliced mango, pineapple, ginger, chia seeds, and almond milk into a blender and turned it on to blend.

Vanessa sipped coffee and waited for the blender to stop before answering. “Yes, unless he tells me something different. Why?”

Lily took a sip of her smoothie, which just looked like green glop to Vanessa, before shrugging. “Just curious. You’ve been seeing him every weekend the last two months.”

Startled, Vanessa eyed her housemate. “Have you been counting? I haven’t.”

“Only reason I remember it is because the last time I saw you this happy, we’d just won the last collegiate championship race we were in,” Lily noted. She gestured with her glass. “I don’t want to be Ms. Doom-and-Gloom, but you’ve always thrown yourself into everything once you’ve committed to whatever it is.” She studied Vanessa. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Lily, I love you like the sister I’ve never had, but you’re paranoid and think everyone’s got a bridge they want to sell or a cause they want you to join.”

Seeing Vanessa’s resolve, Lily sighed and finished her smoothie. “I just don’t trust guys who say they’re independently wealthy. All the ones I’ve ever met have had something wrong with them.”

“That’s because they’ve never met anyone like you,” Vanessa said loyally, finishing her coffee.

“Yes, well. You don’t ask enough questions sometimes, Ms. I-Worked-for-a-Black-Ops-Company.”

“I honestly didn’t know they were that company!” Vanessa protested. “The name was different from what the news had said! And they were extremely specific about distancing themselves from it; I honestly thought they were two separate companies.”

“On paper,” Lily said dryly. “But we weren’t talking about work or how you working for that company was one of the reasons you and I stopped talking for a decade. Vanessa, ask Duncan more questions. He’s incredibly charming; so is Richie. Patrick won’t say a bad word about either of them, other than to grouse that Richie isn’t with them enough.”

“Yeah, and?” Vanessa put her coffee mug in the dishwasher. “You’re convinced everyone’s scheming to use everyone else, when you aren’t convinced there’s a whole other world of people who look like us but aliens and vampires and shit like that. I can’t live like that, Lily, and if I don’t get moving, I’m going to miss the bus. I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

Sighing, looking convinced Vanessa was making a mistake, Lily nodded her acceptance of the redirect.

Still, the conversation lingered in the back of Vanessa’s mind as she went through her workday. Remembering what Richie had said about Duncan’s wealth, she decided to see if the Seacouver newspaper had anything on Duncan. The newspaper search revealed an article, dated in June 2018. Duncan was an attendee at a summer fundraiser and cited as a ‘local businessman and philanthropist.’ Curious, she expanded her search to Google, and got hundreds of hits on the phrase “Duncan MacLeod.” Deciding that was a rabbit hole she did not want to go into during work, she returned her focus to the report she was writing that would go with the video she had shot the previous week.

At lunch, she sent Duncan a text. _Are we still on for dinner and going out to a club on Saturday? _she wrote, then waited. She had learned that Duncan did not check his messages until late evening or early morning, depending on when they were sent, especially if she sent the message during a time when he was working. He was prompter if she texted him in the morning, before lunch, but when she did not receive a reply, she thought nothing of it.

The message she received later that day, however, alarmed her.

_You can’t hide from me forever, Vanessa. You’re mine and nobody will stand in my way. I’ll find you in Seacouver soon enough and you’ll see you were destined to be mine. _

The text was from an unknown number, but she knew who it was: her ex-boyfriend, Scott Claire. Dread filled her as she remembered how he had raved of how he had been born with a destiny, how she was part of that destiny, and together, they would rule the world…if only she would follow his requests just like he asked her to, they weren’t too difficult, she was smart enough to follow them just like last time….

She blocked the number, hoping that would be enough, and ignored the way her hands shook over her keyboard, forcing her to breathe deeply so she could type.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advance apologies if I slaughter the French; corrections appreciated since I used DeepL translate.

#### Saturday, June 20

Duncan noticed Vanessa’s distraction as they sat in Joe’s the following evening. “Something on your mind?” he asked. “You can tell me anything.”

She hesitated before telling him, “My ex-boyfriend figured out my cell number. I’m not sure how.”

“Do you have it in one of your social media profiles?”

Vanessa froze. “Yes, it’s in my LinkedIn and my Facebook, but I rarely post to either of those. I thought I blocked him on both so he wouldn’t see any changes or posts I made.”

“Have you accepted a friend invitation from someone you thought you met recently?”

“Maybe?” Vanessa asked, uncertain. She read Duncan’s face and hung her head. “You think he masqueraded as someone else.”

“Very likely. All he would have to do is pretend to be a recruiter for LinkedIn, and people make dummy accounts on Facebook all the time.”

“How do you know about that?”

Duncan grimaced. “Richie gave me a primer on social media so we could promote the dojo. I hadn’t paid much attention to it, but he knew from his time as a lead bartender in Paris how to use it. He also convinced me to sign up for a bunch of dating apps, which only helped reinforce the lessons he’d given me.” Duncan leaned in and reached for Vanessa’s hand. “Do you feel threatened by your ex?”

“I…” Vanessa forced herself to take a breath. “I didn’t think he’d be this upset, but…” She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, navigated to the message app, and handed it to Duncan.

Duncan skimmed through the messages, seeing an increasing level of threat. “Have you reported it to the police?”

“I don’t have proof it’s Scott!” Vanessa protested.

Duncan looked at her. His look said he was unconvinced but sympathetic. “Your gut says it is, even if you don’t want to believe it.” He handed back her phone. “That’s over fifty messages since 10 AM yesterday. Do you want me to stay with you?”

“He doesn’t know where in Seacouver I live,” Vanessa pointed out, relieved by Duncan’s concern. “Lily’s townhouse is in her name. She made me sign a lease agreement for the room I’m renting and the shared space. I was offended at first but I’m glad she did, because it meant I could prove I live here for my driver’s license and stuff like that.”

“That won’t stop someone from figuring it out,” Duncan reminded her. “Does your father and Sasha have your address? Do they know Scott?”

“Sasha wouldn’t give it to him,” Vanessa said instantly. “But…my father might have given him my number. He liked Scott. Thought he was genuinely concerned about me.” Vanessa snorted. “Scott did it to ingratiate himself with my father.”

“Vanessa, does your father have your address?” Duncan repeated.

“I don’t remember if I ever gave it to him,” Vanessa said helplessly, gesturing with her palms face up. “I don’t think I did – my dad has never remembered my birthday, so there’s no reason for me to expect any postal mail from him.” Vanessa studied Duncan. “You act as if you think Scott will find me and stalk me worse than what he’s doing.”

“I’ve seen what a stalker can do,” Duncan explained. “The tone of those messages makes me wonder how close he is.”

“I can’t imagine him traveling from Alexandria, Virginia, all the way here. I was with him for six years. He never was satisfied with anything I did.”

“Yes, but the fact was – you put up with his behavior for as long as you did,” Duncan said gently. “That’s a difficult quality to find. Plus, he knows you; knows what would get to back to the point where you’re malleable again.”

Vanessa made a moue of distaste. “You make it sound like I should report him to the police.”

“I think so,” Duncan noted carefully, “but I also trust that you’re a capable adult who knows this person better than me. If you think he won’t escalate into physically following you, I’m willing to follow your lead.”

“But you’re a trained martial artist,” Vanessa countered, “and I tend to freeze when someone gets angry at me. My mother conditioned me well for that.”

“Judging from these tweets, it seems to me Scott wants you back,” Duncan said. Compassion laced his voice, but his tone was firm as he added, “I don’t feel safe leaving you alone.”

Vanessa hesitated. “If he shows up, I’ll tell you,” she bargained. “I don’t want to think about him anymore. Can we talk about something else? You said a friend of yours owns this club?”

“Yes. He’s the lead guitarist on stage right now; his name is Joe Dawson.” Duncan’s face reflected disapproval of her change of topic, but he willingly changed it. “Have you listened to live blues before?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, but I’m probably not the best judge of musical genres. I can recognize talented artists but other than that, I’m lost.”

Duncan smiled understandingly. “Joe got me into appreciating this genre more. I was more familiar with jazz before we became friends.”

“How long have you been friends?”

“Long enough that I stopped counting,” Duncan said.

Vanessa laughed. “I feel like that with Lily. I got so mad at her for telling me that she thought I was working for a problematic company and that I was being unrealistic, I stopped talking to her for ten years.” Vanessa smiled and shook her head. “Thank God I ran into her at O’Hare.”

“She strikes me as someone who would go to great lengths for a friend if they needed her.”

Vanessa nodded. “She proved that to me.”

A few minutes later, Joe finished playing; the patrons clapped appreciatively. “Thanks, everyone. Our sign language interpreter tonight is Ronnie Esparza.” A Hispanic man joined him on stage; a spotlight shone on him as he moved to a corner of the stage. “I’m going to take a break from playing, but tonight’s band is Maddie Wonder from Spokane, Washington. Give it up for Maddie Wonder!”

The female-led five-piece band took the stage as Joe made his way off stage and put away his guitar. Vanessa watched him approach their table and realized he was leaning on a cane as he walked with an odd hitch in his step. His smile was warm and friendly when he stopped.

Duncan made the introductions. “Vanessa, this is my friend, Joe Dawson, and the owner of this club. Joe, this is my girlfriend, Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda. She’s a UAV operator for Chase Pitkin Media Services.”

Vanessa shook Joe’s hand, finding it calloused and his grip firm. “Pleased to meet another of Duncan’s friends. I was beginning to wonder if he had any besides Richie.”

Joe chuckled. “He saves me for the really important people.” He gestured to the chair. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” Duncan said.

A small silence fell as Joe sat down.

“Did you like my playing?” Joe wondered, looking at Vanessa.

“You’re really good,” Vanessa said promptly. “But I’ve also been accused of just liking music as a general thing and not have any name or style recognition.”

Joe and Duncan laughed. “You don’t have a favorite style?” Joe wondered.

“No,” Vanessa said. “I usually turn on the radio and find something that sounds good to me. Lily, my best friend and housemate, sends me Spotify lists of stuff and I eventually listen to them, but it’s all–” she waved a hand “–just music to me.”

Joe winced. “Good thing we aren’t dating,” he teased her. “That would be requirement number one.”

“Understandable,” Vanessa said, nodding, and reached for Duncan’s hand as she looked at him. “But I found him first?”

Joe barked a laugh. “I’m not worried. If he ever doesn’t take good care of you, let me know.”

Duncan looked amused at that; Vanessa took comfort in his lack of concern. “I doubt I’ll have reason to do that, but thanks for offering. Have you owned this bar a long time?”

“Since the late nineties,” Joe confirmed. “We moved into this space about five years ago; I needed something that was designed from the ground up to be accessible both in the back of the house and in the front.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar that had such wide-open pathways,” Vanessa remarked. “I hadn’t thought about accessibility – I just thought it was nice there was room to walk without bumping everyone. Plus, when you introduced the sign-language interpreter, I realized I hadn’t thought about deaf people wanting to enjoy music. I know that sounds ignorant, but this is the first time I’ve ever been somewhere that had a sign language interpreter.”

Joe grinned. “We’re the only bar in the city where all the staff are trained in ASL, so we get a lot of business from the deaf community.”

“That explains why the volume here isn’t deafening and you can see who you’re talking to,” Vanessa murmured.

Joe nodded, beaming. “I like mood lighting just as much as anyone else, but I value communication and visibility more. I want to be able to see where I’m going and know what the customer is saying.”

Seeing a server signal him, Joe rose. “As much as I’d like to stay and talk, I have bar business. I’ll send your server over with a refill of your drinks.”

“Good to meet you,” Vanessa said sincerely, liking him. “I’m sure we’ll be talking in the future.”

Once Joe had left, Vanessa turned to Duncan. “How come you didn’t want me to meet him? He seems nice.”

Duncan shrugged slightly. “I wanted to get to know you more. I tend to be protective of my friends, and he’s been hurt a lot.”

“Is that why he walks with a cane?”

“No, he’s a Vietnam War veteran. He lost his legs to a land mine.”

“Oh,” Vanessa exclaimed, surprised, as their server silently dropped off drink refills. Vanessa nodded her thanks to the server as Duncan murmured his gratitude. “Joe’s working a job that requires a lot of standing?”

“He swears this year is going to be when he retires, but he likes to stay busy, and the layout here is wheelchair friendly. Joe hired an architect to design a space that would enable him to work even when he’s in his chair. He knew it wouldn’t be cheap, but he had an investor helping him fund the project. The design won the architect a bunch of awards for innovation and accessibility. Joe’s has been cited many times in both local and national news for making a bar everyone could enjoy.”

“Were you his investor for the new bar?”

Duncan chuckled. “No, that was another mutual friend. I funded the original one.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, then frowned as she saw Duncan freeze slightly. “Something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Don’t look, but Richie’s here with Delara and Patrick.” He nodded to the entrance, which was behind Vanessa.

Startled, Vanessa looked at her boyfriend. “You sound like they made a bet with you.”

“They wanted to see you again, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to their weekly dinner. I tried to tell them that I wanted to ask you first, but…” he sighed. “Delara gets an idea in her head and doesn’t let go.”

“And Richie and Patrick go along with it?”

“Only because she doesn’t put her foot down on something that often.”

Vanessa frowned. “Richie doesn’t strike me as someone who would put up with a timid and retiring or too bossy lover.”

“No. Patrick and Delara aren’t balanced in their relationship, which is why partly why they need a third person – someone who’ll point out when one of them has gone too far into compromising. Richie loves them, so he’ll indulge them to a degree.” Duncan studied Vanessa. “Does that bother you?”

“No, I just have trouble picturing myself in that scenario. Before I moved here, I probably would have gone with whatever my boyfriend wanted to avoid an argument.”

“And now?” Duncan asked, leaning in. His face reflected his concern and interest.

“Now, you’d have to give me reasons why I should change my mind,” Vanessa said ruefully, taking a sip of her drink. “I don’t like arguments because of the way I was raised, but I don’t want to be a doormat, either.”

“Neither Patrick nor Delara are doormats,” Duncan told her gently. “They’re both very strong-willed people, whom I’m proud to call friends. Delara doesn’t like to upset others.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, realizing the difference. “Patrick’s probably used to her not upsetting him, and Richie calls them out on it.”

Duncan nodded. “Do you want them to join us?”

“Would they be upset if I just waved?”

“No,” Duncan told her. He then showed her the group text Richie had sent.

_Let us know if you want company; otherwise, we’ll find a table for ourselves._

Delara had added, _If Vanessa wants you all to herself, we get it. But please ask her if she wants to join us at dinner next week._

Vanessa’s eyes widened at the invitation. “Please tell them I’d rather not talk to them tonight? I know that sounds rude, considering they probably came out to see us, but I…I think I want to just go home with you.”

Duncan leaned over and kissed her softly, mindful of their surroundings. “It’s okay. Do you mind if I give your number to them?”

“No, go ahead.”

Vanessa’s phone pinged with Duncan’s reply; he had included her on the group text. _We’re headed out soon, _Duncan said, adding an apologetic emoji.

Seeing he had included her, Vanessa wrote, _Dinner next week sounds great._

She got a string of happy emojis – one from Richie, one from Patrick, and another from Delara. Amused, she put away her phone in her purse.

Duncan’s phone pinged with a message from Richie. Vanessa saw the message – _Chasseur de têtes dehors. Je l'ai fait reculer, mais attention._ _**[1]**– _before Duncan pulled his phone away. Not understanding the message, she looked at Duncan questioningly.

“What did Richie say?” Vanessa asked.

Duncan shook his head. “He was just teasing me about rocking the boat. It’s an old joke from when I had a barge in Paris and he stayed with me.” He dropped a few bills to cover their drinks and appetizers, and told Vanessa, “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, but instinctively, she knew that was not what Richie had written. She did not know French well enough to read it, just enough to recognize it. Reluctant to push and upset Duncan before they went to his home, she said nothing.

That night, she clung to Duncan, desperate to prove to him she was worth his attention. In the aftermath of such wild passion, he held her close. “Hey, not to sound like I’m complaining, but where did that come from?”

Vanessa looked at him, her heart in her throat. Swallowing hard, she replied, “I don’t want you thinking I’m not good enough for you.”

“Whatever gave you the idea I thought that?” Duncan looked at her, surprise clear on his face. “I love you, Vanessa. I love the woman who’s embarrassed I could see her naked in the bathroom, even if we just made love. I love the woman who’s not afraid to crawl around a half-finished building so she can get the perfect shot for her remotely operated video camera. I love the woman who was so confident she asked me for a date. I love you, not some superficial idea of you.”

Vanessa stared at him, unable to believe her ears.

Seeing her astonishment, Duncan rolled over to face her more fully and kissed her softly. “Do you want me to shout it to the rooftops, Vanessa?”

“No, I just –” She took a deep breath. “I’m scared. Scott said he would kill anyone who stood in his way, even though I never was good enough for him. I think about his words and it messes me up still.”

“You let me worry about him,” Duncan assured her. “But yes, you are more than good enough for me.”

“I’m not rich and I barely know how to function at fancy dinner parties.”

“You did fine at the Seacouver Spring Ball,” he reminded her. “Vanessa, what your ex did to you was emotional abuse. You know that, right?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t stop the echoes sometimes.”

Duncan kissed her and held her close. She closed her eyes and soaked in the love and reassurance, tucking her head against his chest, as he said in a thick Scottish accent, “Remember this, Vanessa. I love you. I will fight to protect you from anyone who tries to harm you, in any way I can. You have my word.”

“I love you too, Duncan.” Believing him, she lifted her head and kissed him until the ghosts were banished from her mind and all she could think of was him, touching her and making her feel like she was the only woman he had ever loved.

[1] Headhunter outside. I got him to back off, but be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback much appreciated, especially on the French.


	9. Chapter 9

#### Wednesday, July 1

Vanessa was watching a reality competition cooking show when Lily took the remote and paused it.

“Hey! What gives?” Vanessa protested.

“I did some digging on your boyfriend. Something Richie said a few weeks back stuck out in my head.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Lily, what are you on about now? I know what I need to know about Duncan.”

“Really? Did you know that the ‘Seacouver’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ list was last published in 1999?”

Vanessa frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying your boyfriend looks amazing for a guy who’s in his seventies, because there’s no way he’s still only 46.” To prove her point, Lily handed her a printout. “I got those from the library’s archive of newspapers.” The article cited “Duncan MacLeod, age 46, owner of DeSalvo’s Gym and philanthropist. Source of wealth: MacLeod Family Holdings, Ltd.” The photo was a dead ringer for Duncan.

Vanessa stared at it. “Maybe it’s a doppelganger,” she said, a heartbeat too slow.

Lily snorted. “I doubt it. You’ve got that look that says you know it’s him, but you don’t know why.”

“Why do you care?” Vanessa cried out, annoyed. “Do you live to ruin my life?”

“No!” Lily protested, struck by the accusation, pressing her hand to her chest. Her face reflected deep hurt. “I just – Vanessa, what if he’s a vampire? One that can walk in daylight?”

Vanessa groaned, aware that Lily had been searching for proof that vampires and fairies existed. “Lily, he’s not a vampire. You’re the most pragmatic, level-headed, most cynical person I’ve ever known, but your love for urban legends, fantastical creatures, and myths goes too far sometimes. Why do you think he’s a vampire? He doesn’t even fit the stereotype!”

“It’s the only reason!”

“No. We are not going down that path. You had me scared to walk around this city at last call time, remember? Stuff about how the city has these sword-wielding protectors who fight against evil? I have enough to worry about as it is with Scott trying to blow up my phone.”

That caught Lily’s attention. “What the hell? Scott’s been contacting you?! Have you told the police?”

“He uses different phone numbers, so as soon as I block one, he tries another.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Lily said, frowning.

“What am I going to tell the police? Hello, I have a stalker of an ex-boyfriend? They’ll tell me to file a fucking report and ask me if I have a restraining order.”

“Vanessa, it’s a crime in this state to stalk anyone, more so than in some states. That includes texting you on the phone. Have you at least told Duncan?”

“I did. He wants to protect me. Even asked me if I wanted him to drive me to work, but that’s just ridiculous.”

“And what if Scott kidnaps you from the bus?” Lily asked. “What am I supposed to tell Duncan and the police then? ‘Oh, she knew her ex-boyfriend was threatening her, but she didn’t take it seriously?’ Do you want to sound that stupid?”

Caught by that reasoning, Vanessa sighed. “I don’t want to talk to the police,” she said. “I don’t want them thinking I’m some hysterical Hispanic woman.”

Lily rolled her eyes but held her tongue. She knew Vanessa had experienced racism in ways she had not. “Then at least promise me you’ll look at the website I’m sending you on the stalking resources you have here in this city. And text me when you get to wherever you’re going, so I know you’re ok? I don’t want to sound like I’m tracking you, but if that asshole shows up here, I want to say I knew where you were last.”

“You think he’ll hurt me.”

“Didn’t we find an old broadsword in the closet when we were cleaning up the apartment, one you’d never seen before?”

That made Vanessa pause. “No? I don’t remember that. I mean, he collected swords. I thought nothing of it. He told me it was just a hobby for him.”

Impatiently, Lily shook her head. “Vanessa, that means he collected weapons. Hello? He liked swords enough that he had more than one. He has means to kill you, with a weapon that doesn’t require a background check to own.”

Vanessa closed her eyes briefly, her heart aching. “Duncan has a sword – a katana. I saw it next to the bed. He said it was a gift from a friend and told me not to touch it without his permission.”

Lily favored her with a look. “He also teaches kendo at his dojo, which is the Japanese style of sword fighting. He has a reason to have a katana. Did Scott have that kind of reason?”

“No.”

“Then do you see why I need you to see how serious Scott’s messages are? He wants you back. It won’t take him long to figure out where you work; you’ve put that out on LinkedIn and Facebook.”

Vanessa looked away for a moment. “Let me talk to Duncan. I’d feel better if I talked to him first.”

Lily reached over and grasped Vanessa’s hands. “I love you, Vanessa. You’re like a sister to me. You not talking to me because I objected to what you were doing hurt. I don’t want to be pushy, but you’ve always leaped without looking into everything, hoping the landing wouldn’t hurt or you could figure out a way to make it work. You lead with your heart in everything. I envy you for that optimism, knowing how your mother’s PTSD affected you. This situation with Scott will not stop, if I’m any judge of this thing.”

As if to underscore her thoughts, Vanessa’s phone pinged with an incoming text notification. When she checked her phone, she grimaced as she read the message.

_You think you can hide forever, but I know where you are, Vanessa. You’ll be mine again. Such a pretty blue townhouse. Is the purple PT Cruiser yours? It’s not your style. Your housemate is too Goth for those clothes and makeup to be yours. I wish I could’ve seen you in that burgundy gown. You always looked good in that color._

Vanessa’s face drained of all color and she froze, terrified.

Seeing her expression, Lily took Vanessa’s phone out of her hands and blanched when she read the text. “That fucker. Okay, that’s the last straw. Call Duncan, pack a bag, and call in sick,” Lily recommended. “And for god’s sake, call the police or I will. He’s been in this house. _My _house, through both of our closets and God knows what else.”

With shaking hands, Vanessa dialed 911 and reported the stalking and break-in. The 911 operator promised to send police.

Meanwhile, Lily dialed Richie. “Richie, could you call Duncan? Vanessa’s ex from Virginia has figured out she lives here and he’s stalking her.”

“Will do. I’ll be right over with a locksmith,” Richie promised.

Vanessa stared at Lily when she relayed the message. “He’d get a locksmith for us?”

Lily chuckled ruefully. “He gets it, Vanessa. I hadn’t even thought of a locksmith.”

The police arrived. They took Vanessa’s statement and took screenshots of the messages she had received. A search of the house revealed the screen door was ajar, and since the latch was broken, it was the entry point. The police also had Vanessa and Lily sign statements for evidence, gave them their contact information if anything else happened, and left afterwards.

Duncan, Richie, and the locksmith arrived within moments of each other. After a brief discussion, the locksmith went to work rekeying the house. He also installed a security bar on the sliding glass door and installed a better latch.

“You okay?” Duncan asked Vanessa, rushing to hug her.

“Just really, really shaken up, _zvezda moya,_” Vanessa said, leaning into the comfort he offered.

Duncan smiled briefly at being called her star in Russian, but focused on the matter at hand. “What happened?”

“Lily made me remember Scott collected swords and his text message showed he’d been in the house.” She pointed to the message on her phone, which she had yet to delete.

Duncan read it and winced. “Do the police need you to keep that message?”

“Not anymore,” Lily said. When Vanessa did not react, Lily took the phone from Duncan and removed the message before handing it back.

Hearing her words, Richie exchanged a look with Duncan, one Vanessa didn’t understand. “What does this creep look like?”

Vanessa bit her lip. Impatiently, Lily took her phone and flipped it to the photo Vanessa had shown to the police, then passed the phone to Richie, who shared it with Duncan.

The photo showed Vanessa at what looked like a holiday party, standing next to a man the same height as her. His gray pinstripe suit hung loosely on his body, as if he had not bothered to have it tailored to fit, but had instead chosen to go with whatever fit his broad shoulders, thin waist, and wide hips. The pale blue dress shirt and loudly patterned tie added to the fashion disaster. He looked like a misplaced California surfer dude, with his sun-bleached blond hair, and tanned skin. He had a rectangular face; stubble lined his cheeks and chin. His body posture screamed smug satisfaction as he held Vanessa close. Vanessa looked at him adoringly, not paying attention to how possessively close he held her.

Vanessa watched Duncan and Richie study the photo, which she had kept to remind her what possessiveness looked like.

“Does he look familiar?” Richie asked Duncan.

“No,” Duncan said with finality, and handed the phone back.

Richie gave him a dubious look. “Tu dis ça comme ça ou tu ne sais vraiment pas qui est ce mec?” he asked Duncan.

“Non, je ne sais pas qui c'est. Je ne connais pas tous les immortels du monde. Je ne suis pas Cory Raines, qui fait une liste de qui est qui pour qu'il ne se trompe pas de personne. I’m not my cousin, who knows everyone by default,” Duncan shot back, annoyed. [1]

“Do you recognize him?” Lily pounced, hearing the rapid-fire conversation in French but not understanding the language.

“No,” Duncan said at the same time as Richie.

Lily eyed them. “Are you two arguing in French so we don’t understand why?”

“Yes. Bad habit,” Richie excused himself. “I still think better in French.”

Vanessa looked at him. “Because you spent ten years there in a fast-paced job?”

He nodded. “Sorry. I can teach you if you’re interested.”

“Maybe later. You don’t think I’m stupid for keeping that photo?” Vanessa asked anxiously, setting the phone down on the coffee table and wringing her hands.

Duncan stilled her hands. “No. You were happy with him then, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I didn’t like the way he acted at that party, though, and I never took him with me to another one. Not that it mattered – he didn’t like me going to them alone, even though I told him they were necessary for work.”

“He was jealous,” Richie surmised.

Vanessa nodded.

“Do you think he’ll do anything more?” Duncan asked.

“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, gesturing helplessly. “But I never liked him when he was upset. He always blamed me for making him feel that way. He would sound so reasonable about why it was my fault, too.”

“You’ll come home with me, then. Richie, will you take Lily with you?”

Richie nodded as Lily protested, “But you’re having a locksmith rekey the house!”

“If this guy is like the other stalker I ran into a few years ago, he’ll try again,” Richie stated. His hands underscored his words. “He’s close by, enough to see the police but far enough that you won’t find him easily.”

“The text was just a warning to see how you’d react,” Duncan added. “Lily, I’d feel better if you were with Richie tonight.”

Lily stared at him, surprised by the suggestion. “Why?” she demanded, suspicious.

“Because if he gets to you, he can use you as leverage,” Duncan pointed out.

“All he has to do is force you to call Vanessa while she’s with Mac,” Richie added. “And if you’re anything like me, Lily, you’ll figure out some excuse to leave, and then it would be easy for this ex of Vanessa’s to get to her. You’re close enough to Vanessa that you probably give her allowances for behavior you’d never allow in yourself.”

The accuracy of the assessment struck Lily like a blow. Swallowing hard, she asked, “How do you know this?”

“School of hard knocks,” Richie admitted ruefully, glancing briefly at Duncan in a silent acknowledgement of shared history. “My friends have always been my greatest weakness and my greatest strength. I can’t begin to tell you how many times someone fooled me by telling me my friend was in trouble and needed my help before I finally wised up. But it took way longer than it should have, because I tend to be an optimist and want to believe not everyone is as bad as they often prove themselves to be.”

Lily blanched. “Right. And despite my cynicism, I would readily believe Vanessa got herself in some kind of trouble because she trusts people more than me. So where am I staying?”

“I have a guest bedroom that’s on the other side of the condo,” Richie clarified. “And the building’s secure. You can’t get into it without rappelling gear and I have a security system.” He flashed a grin. “Same one as Duncan’s, which means the average thief or stalker can’t get into it. I say that as an ex-thief, mind you.”

Assured by that, Lily looked at Vanessa. “Come on, let’s get packed so they can take us home.”

* * *

Vanessa was quiet on the drive to Duncan’s house. “I feel like I’m putting you out somehow,” she admitted as he let her into his apartment.

Duncan chuckled softly before following her inside and locking the door behind them. “You’re not, darling,” he told her as he stepped to the kitchen. “Did you want a glass of wine before bed?”

“Please. I don’t normally drink but I think I need one. I’ll just run this bag upstairs.”

“Unless you want to stay down here and watch something, I can bring it up to you,” he offered. “It’s only a little after eight.”

Vanessa considered. “No, I’ll come back down.”

Suspecting she needed a little space and wanted time to process, Duncan accepted her refusal. While she was upstairs, he used the privacy to remove the lightweight leather jacket he had worn and pulled his katana out from its sheath within the jacket. He put his sword on the hooks by the back door, turning it into a piece of art; he would bring the sword upstairs after Vanessa had fallen asleep. He then grabbed two glasses and a bottle of red wine. He poured the wine into the glasses, then brought them to the coffee table in front of the TV. Vanessa returned and sat down on the couch next to him, leaning into the comfort he offered as she took the glass of wine.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk too much about Scott,” Duncan began, “but I’m curious. When you left, did you say goodbye to him and tell him why you were leaving? It seems odd he’s coming after you after nearly a year.”

Vanessa sipped her wine. “I did say goodbye. He came in as the charity donation truck was leaving, so he was shocked to see how empty the apartment was. He was upset – so upset Lily made him stand on the other side of the room out of reach of me.”

“Do you think he’ll hurt you?”

“Lily thinks so, but I,” Vanessa sighed, “I think he’s more likely to make me feel like I’m hopeless, and I don’t know what to do. When I’m at work, I know how to handle difficult people, but in my personal life, I’ve always wanted to make people happy.” She looked at Duncan anxiously. “You don’t think Lily’s overreacting, so that helps.”

Duncan took her hand and met her gaze. “Sweetheart, men like your ex-boyfriend want control. They don’t always care how they get it, either.”

Vanessa smiled ruefully. “I don’t understand. I never did anything right, and he kept wanting me to tell him things about my work that I still can’t tell anyone. He said if I’d had a normal job, I’d be able to tell him everything.”

“But even if a normal job, there are things you don’t share with your significant other,” Duncan objected. “Nobody needs to hear the minutiae of your workday or even some of the annoyances.”

“Exactly! You aren’t going to tell me about how Mrs. Smith is always late with her payments because you don’t want me walking into your dojo, meeting Mrs. Smith, and treating her like dirt because I know something about her I shouldn’t. Or what if I meet Mrs. Smith when we’re out shopping or at a restaurant?” Vanessa shook her head. “That would not be good for business. But Scott always wanted to know the gossip, like he would ever meet the people I worked with, and I didn’t want to tell him.”

“You didn’t want to introduce him to your coworkers?”

“Not after the one holiday party I took him to. He got drunk and embarrassed us both. The photo of us was early in the evening, before I realized he was mean when he was drunk.”

“You didn’t know before?”

Vanessa shook her head. “We met waiting for the bus; he and I usually took the same bus every morning until his commute changed.” She looked lost in memory for a moment before sighing heavily. “I really thought we had something nice. I wanted to please him so much and I had so much hope for what we could do together.”

“What was the last straw for you?”

“He said he was going to a convention and wouldn’t be able to go to my mother’s funeral with me. He didn’t even want to take me to the airport, which I thought was weird. When I left for Chicago, he was already out of the apartment.”

“Was he really at a convention?”

Vanessa met Duncan’s gaze. “If he was, he didn’t take much in the way of clothes. He came in smelling like the back booth of a strip club.”

“And how do you know what that smells like?” Duncan asked, surprised by the specific reference.

“Because he used to take me to one at least once a month,” Vanessa admitted. “He was convinced if I only saw enough women, one of them would interest me. He couldn’t move past the notion that if I said I was straight, then no woman would ever turn me on. He had these stupid threesome fantasies.”

Duncan groaned. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“I know. Can we talk about something else? Have you heard from your cousin?”

“I have. Would you be willing to meet him on video this weekend? We cancelled classes for the holiday weekend. I promised Connor I would call him Saturday, and we usually chat on video. I mentioned you to him and he claims since he hasn’t met you, you’re a figment of my imagination until I prove otherwise.”

Vanessa laughed. “He sounds like a hard man to please.”

Duncan smiled ruefully. “He can be. He’s been a teacher and a friend to me, not just a cousin.”

Vanessa considered that as she sipped her wine. “I hope I don’t disappoint him. I should call my father and Sasha this weekend; it’s been a while since I talked to either of them.”

Nodding, Duncan asked, “Do they call you?”

“Sasha used to, when I first moved out here, but she was sick for a few weeks and then I lost track.” She looked at Duncan. “You’re very distracting, you know.”

Duncan arched an eyebrow. “I could distract you some more, if you like.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to use you.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve had a traumatic evening, and I’ve been asking questions on top of that. It’s only natural to want to think of nicer things. If having sex is your distraction of choice, I’m not going to refuse. I love being able to touch you and show you how much I desire you for the beautiful, passionate, and intelligent woman you are.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I love you so much, _cariño_. Would you please make love with me?”

“I love you, too, sweetheart, and yes.”

He took her wine glass and set it on the coffee table before leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back eagerly, wanting to soak in the unfettered love he offered, and gave herself over to pleasure.

Long, slow, intoxicating kisses later, Duncan drew her to her feet, desire glittering in his eyes. “Shall we continue this in the bedroom?”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded and took his hand. Once in his bedroom, he undressed her slowly, savoring the opportunity to reveal her body one article of a clothing at a time. She shuddered with anticipation and desire. He could arouse her like no other lover, and she was eager to climb passion’s cliff with him again. She soon grew impatient with his deliberate pace and tried to hurry him along by turning her attention to removing his clothes and stroking his cock.

Taking the hint, he pushed back the bed covers and lifted her onto the bed. He paused to don a condom before covering his body with hers. He reached down to stroke her core and found her wet but not enough for full penetration. Wanting to send her pleasure higher, needing to hear her, and wanting to make sure she was ready to take him, he used his fingers to stroke her as he dropped kisses along her neck and collarbone. She gasped and clutched his biceps.

“Duncan, please,” she begged. “Want you inside of me.” She loved the way he prepared her, but tonight she needed more. “Need to feel you.”

Duncan groaned, but quickly replaced his fingers with his cock. She lifted her hips to meet his thrust halfway, aware she was not stretched enough for him to enter her fully. The ache intensified her pleasure and she moaned as he withdrew. She lifted her hips again repeatedly to meet each of his thrusts, loving the intense look on his face as he penetrated her deeper and deeper with each until his cock was fully seated within her. He rested there a moment, drew a breath, and then took them both up higher the mountain of desire until they fell off, gasping with the sudden fulfillment of passion.

In the aftermath, he cuddled her close. She soaked in the joy of their union, and fell asleep feeling safe and loved.

* * *

Lily stepped into Richie’s condo, awed at the expanse of space. “This looks big,” she noted. The furniture and décor was modern-meets-vintage, with an eye towards comfort. “You have style.”

Richie grinned and shut the door behind her. “Yeah, I like it. Duncan never likes having a lot of walls wherever he lives. I tease him sometimes about it. When I met him, he was running an antique store. He helped me with the furniture; we agreed to compromise on how much of the furniture in here is antique. I mean, I love the stuff, but I like modern stuff too.” As he talked, he led the way to the right-hand side of the penthouse and the guest room. “Two of my favorite pieces are in here.”

Lily’s eyes widened as she took in the huge bedroom, decorated in grays, blues, and cream. The queen-size bed was in a wrought-iron four-poster frame. A large canvas hung over the bed, showcasing a nighttime photo of Paris from a point on the Seine River. Two walnut nightstands flanked the bed. A gray tufted pillow transformed a chest at the foot of the bed into a bench. A freestanding mirror stood in the corner by the built-in closet, which had louvered bifold doors. The bathroom was connected to the guest suite by a door.

“That’s one of the prettiest four-poster beds I’ve ever seen,” she noted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one with low footposts like that.” She stepped inside the room, setting down her overnight bag next to the louvered closet door. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen nightstands in that color wood.”

“I’m not a fan of tall footposts; I inevitably hurt myself on them.” Richie grinned. “And the reason you don’t see wood that color too much is because those are solid walnut from Scotland. They were new in 1930.”

“Oh. No setting down drink glasses on these, huh?”

Richie shrugged. “They’re in my guest room because they have water stains and aren’t perfect. They used to be in my room in Duncan’s apartment and I had no idea they were antiques, so I’m not going to tell you not to use them as nightstands. I certainly did.”

Lily chuckled ruefully at that. “Sort of like my aunt’s furniture. In her house, the ancient furniture was just furniture. The fact she’d inherited some of it from her great-uncle, who bought it new back when furniture was made to last several lifetimes, and it was still in good condition was irrelevant.”

“I had to learn that one; I once broke a Ming vase and thought Duncan was going to throw me out on the street.”

“Did you have to work to pay it off?”

“Not as much as I feared,” Richie said. He studied her, hearing the ring of experience. “Did your parents neglect or punish you harshly, Lily?”

“I wouldn’t say neglect; that’s too strong of a word. Maybe the better phrasing is they were too focused on a certain practicality to raising a child. They wanted a child who was obedient, smart, educated, well-groomed, and able to impress on cue, so the effort they spent was realized in measurable ways. Playtime should be educational, and no time should be wasted on frivolous things. I had to earn my privileges.”

“Do you talk to your parents anymore?”

“No,” Lily said, meeting Richie’s gaze. “When I told them that I was going to school for CAD instead of pursing a full engineering degree, they disowned me and blamed my aunt.” She shrugged. “By then, I’d figured out I was lesbian and would never fit the boxes they wanted to put me into, so I don’t think it’s that big of a loss.” She studied him. “How old were you when you figured out you weren’t straight?”

“Nine, but I stuffed it in a box for years, especially after meeting Duncan, who I thought epitomized being a straight guy. Then I saw him with Adam and how he let Adam getting away with shit I never did–” Richie shook his head. “To be fair, it was mutual.”

“You saw Duncan date a guy?”

Richie chuckled. “And three women that I know of,” he said. “His last girlfriend really broke his heart.”

“How so?” Lily sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed and took off her shoes.

“She had been a friend for a few years before they got together,” Richie explained. “He assumed by the time they became lovers, she knew what to expect from him. When they broke up, she said he had been arrogant, self-centered, and presumptuous, and she’d expected better.”

Lily winced. “Ouch. Sounds like she really dug the knife in and twisted it. Whatever happened to just ‘sorry, I don’t think we’re working out, goodbye, have a nice life without me’?”

Richie laughed. “Most people aren’t that direct.”

“Yeah, well, so people keep telling me. Probably why I’m still single.”

Richie grinned. “Are you happy that way?”

Lily considered the question. “I’ve never felt compelled to have a girlfriend long-term. I’ve had a few, mind you, but it always becomes this drama where they invariably think I need to change my look, tone it down, stop being such a Goth fairy princess, shit like that. I’m not going to change just because someone says I should. I want to be rocking purple hair and a black corset dress when I’m sixty.”

“I’m sure you will,” Richie assured her. “If you get cold, the bench you’re sitting on is actually a chest with quilts. There’s a box fan in the closet if the ceiling fan’s not enough. Towels and toiletries are in the bathroom next door. I apologize in advance if the feminine hygiene isn’t enough; I haven’t restocked.”

“I brought my own; I figured you’d have towels, soap, and shampoo but I was pretty certain you wouldn’t have tampons. Most guys I know wouldn’t think to stock it.”

“Tessa, Duncan’s girlfriend when I moved in with them, taught me how to shop for it and not be embarrassed or squeamish. It’s a natural body function for women.” Richie shrugged. “Delara, my girlfriend, tells me I’m the first guy she’s ever dated, including Patrick, who’s ever willingly had tampons and pads in his apartment all the time.”

“No wonder they love you. You having that in your apartment is almost enough to convince me to try men, but I suspect you and Duncan are two of the rare kind.”

Chuckling, Richie changed the subject and asked, “Did you want to head into work tomorrow?”

Lily made a face. “Unfortunately, I have a deadline tomorrow and I refuse to work from home, so yes. Your motorcycle is more comfortable than I expected. Thanks for lending me a helmet. Do you always have an extra with you?”

“Delara rides with me sometimes, so yes. I’m glad it wasn’t too loose on your head. What time did you want to get up?”

“Is six too early?”

“No. And before you tell me you’ll be fine taking the bus from here, I’d feel better if I dropped you off.”

Lily made a face at that. “Because Duncan will ask you if you did?”

Richie shook his head. “No, because I know what it’s like to be the friend of someone targeted. I made the mistake of assuming since I was the friend, I was safe. I was wrong.”

Lily studied him, seeing hard-won experience reflected on his face. “Looking at you now, I don’t think I’ll ever assume you’re a twenty-something ever again,” she noted quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away. I reserve the right not to answer.” Richie leaned against the doorway of the guest bedroom.

“You act as if you think Scott Claire’s a bigger threat than just an average stalker. Why?”

“76% of women murdered by an intimate partner were stalked first, while 85% of women who survived murder attempts were stalked,” Richie said, rattling off the statistic. At Lily’s look of surprise, he added wryly, “Numbers like that stick in my head. Maybe it’s because I’m one – a foster kid turned runaway turned gang member who got a last-chance shot at redemption.”

Shocked by that, Lily turned worried eyes to Richie. “Vanessa never looks before she leaps. She runs on hope, way more than I ever will. Scott had a collection of swords in their closet. He called it his lucky seven; told Vanessa they were proof of some destiny shit he tried to get her to buy into.”

Alarm flashed across Richie’s face. “What did you do with them?”

“Took them to a pawn shop and sold them,” Lily admitted. “Sent the money to Vanessa for her plane ticket out here. I figured if he thought they were his lucky seven, then they should go towards making her happy and safe, not sitting in a closet gathering dust.”

Richie chuckled roughly. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

“I figured he’d probably convinced her to pay for some of that shit, so pawning it and making sure she got some of her money back was the least I could do.” She studied Richie a moment before asking, “Do you think I went too far? I basically bullied her into leaving and getting rid of everything.”

“Not from where I’m standing, especially given what Scott did earlier tonight.”

Lily took a deep breath. “You call Duncan ‘Mac’ – why?”

“Because it’s his nickname,” Richie noted. “When he introduced himself to me, he was with his cousin, Connor. I’m used to using it.” He shrugged.

“You’ve known him twenty years. What’s something that impressed you about his relationships with other people he’s loved?”

Richie considered the question a moment. “When Mac loves a woman, he will go to incredible lengths to ensure her happiness. He once renovated a six-bedroom house for the woman he loved. He taught me how to do construction work in the process. They weren’t even together anymore when we started on the house. He still gave the house to her.”

Lily stared at Richie, flabbergasted. “Most guys in that situation would sell the house!”

Richie nodded. “I asked Mac once why he didn’t. He said selling it was the wrong thing to do.” Richie looked at Lily. “I think a part of him hoped if he gave it to Anne, she’d be so impressed she would want him back. It didn’t work, but they stayed friends for a while.”

“Are they still in contact?”

Richie shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I know she still lives in the city.”

Lily looked at him. “How come? Have you been keeping tabs on her?”

Chuckling, Richie said, “No. We have mutual friends – one of my oldest friends is a nurse at the same hospital.”

“Ah. Seacouver’s a small town sometimes?”

“For such a big city? Yes.”

“Has Duncan ever been married?”

“No. He was engaged once.” Richie’s face shuttered. “She died before the wedding. A mugger shot her when she was too slow opening her purse.”

Realizing that subject was a sore one, Lily swiftly apologized. “I’m sorry I brought up bad memories. Did you know her?” At his nod, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s just – Duncan seems perfect.”

Richie barked a reluctant laugh. “He’s not; trust me. I’m going to get ready for bed. Did you need anything before I go?”

Shaking her head, Lily said, “No, thanks. And Richie – in case I forget to mention it – thanks for caring about what happens to me.”

“You’re welcome. You’re not just Patrick’s or Vanessa’s friend; you’re mine too now. I like you, Lily.”

Surprised by that, Lily studied him, hearing a sincerity she rarely heard from her friends. “I like you too, Richie. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Lily. Do you want the door open or closed?”

“Can you see into this room from the master bedroom?”

“No. The living room, kitchen, and dining room are between there and here,” Richie pointed out.

“Then no.”

“If you change your mind but don’t want to shut it all the way, there’s a door stop.” He pointed out the small stone white rabbit sitting beside the door, which Lily had not noticed.

“White rabbit?”

Richie grinned. “Sometimes it’s a Wonderland around here. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

* * *

[1] Are you just saying that, or do you really not know who that dude is?

No, I don't know who it is. I don't know every immortal in the world. I'm not Cory Raines, who makes a list of who is who so he doesn't prank the wrong person.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Sam Johnsson, Torra K., and raveninthewind for the Twitter question answers, and to N, for the beta and suggestions.

“Duncan, I don’t think this is necessary,” Vanessa protested as he went with her into the office where she worked.

“Vanessa, your ex-boyfriend broke into your house, rummaged through your clothes, and found at least one item that didn’t fit the person he knew. That’s over the line. I can picture him going to your work. If you won’t take the day off, at least introduce me to your coworkers and let me explain to them you have a stalker, so they know to call the police if he shows up.”

Unable to argue with that logic, Vanessa relented. The twenty-story building was one of the old midrise office buildings in the downtown core, close to one of the main transit hubs. Chase Pitkin Media Services had offices on the sixteenth floor.

Duncan felt relief when he saw that beyond the reception area, the office area was secured with keycard access, but he knew how easily one could bluff a receptionist into letting him into the area.

The receptionist looked to be in her twenties. She had a bright smile and an ambiguous ethnicity. She wore a wireless headset. The nameplate on the desk read, “Olivia Ricci, Director of First Impressions.”

Seeing Vanessa, she greeted, “Hi, Vanessa!”

“Hi, Olivia,” Vanessa said warmly. “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Duncan MacLeod. He owns a martial arts dojo in North Seacouver. Duncan, this is Olivia, our director of first impressions.”

Olivia’s eyes widened, but she rose and shook hands. Her face reflected her questions but all she said aloud was, “Pleased to meet you. Will you be with us all day?”

“No, I have a few classes to teach before the holiday weekend.” He looked expectantly at Vanessa. “Will you be all right to work?”

“Is something wrong?” Olivia asked.

“I have an ex-boyfriend stalking me,” Vanessa added, reaching for Duncan’s hand as she spoke. “His name is Scott Claire.” She pulled out a photo Duncan had insisted she print so Olivia could know what he looked like and handed it to the receptionist. “If he comes in here, insisting he needs to speak with me, or he has information he needs to give to me, call the police.”

Olivia nodded soberly. “Got it. My dad is a deputy sheriff for the county, so he gave me the anti-stalking lecture once he found I would be a receptionist.” To Duncan, she asked, “Will you be taking Vanessa home when she’s finished working?”

“Yes.”

Olivia smiled. “Good. I’ll call building security, so they lock down the elevator to our floor, restricting use to those with keycards.”

Vanessa looked surprised. “We can do that?”

“Yes. Now kiss your boyfriend so you can go to work.”

Chuckling, Duncan kissed Vanessa. “Promise me you won’t leave the building without me.”

“I promise. I won’t go with him, love. I’ll text you so you can pick me up.”

“If I can’t make it when you’re ready to leave, I’ll send Richie.”

Nodding, Vanessa took her leave.

Assured Vanessa was safe, Duncan went out to the nearest parking garage, where he had parked his car. Feeling an immortal nearby, he relaxed when he saw Richie sitting on his motorcycle, which was parked in the compact space next to Duncan’s car. Richie had removed his helmet; it hung from a handlebar.

“Been waiting long?”

Richie shook his head. “Not long; I tried the other garage two blocks down first, since I wasn’t sure which one you’d park in.”

“What’s up that you couldn’t text me?”

“Didn’t want to text and drive with Lily as my passenger,” Richie told him, and understanding dawned on Duncan’s face. “Plus, what I wanted to tell you isn’t anything I wanted her to hear. Lily insisted on coming back to her townhouse this morning. She claimed she forgot something, but I think she just wanted to assure herself the locks worked and her townhouse was still as we had left it.”

Duncan studied his former student. “What happened?”

Richie took a deep breath. “Scott Claire is one of us. He was at the townhouse this morning after we left but ran off when I got close. His ability to sense us is not good; I could feel him three blocks away, but he didn’t know I was there until I was nearly on top of him. I let him go while Lily made her checks and grabbed a leather jacket to wear instead of the hoodie she used last night.”

“But he was there and here as well.”

Richie nodded. “I suspected he would wait for Vanessa here once he realized she wasn’t at home. I chased him off and drove him down towards the docks. He hopped on one of the lake tours boats; got a ticket for the harbor cruise. I figured that would keep him occupied for a while.”

“He’ll be back.” Grimly, Duncan studied his protégé. “You saw the photo of Scott last night. How does that compare to what he looks like in person?”

“He’s about an inch shorter than me,” Richie revealed. “Maybe two hundred pounds, but he’s mostly upper-body weight. I don’t think he’s cut out to be a long-distance runner. He was out of breath by the time he hit the ticket window.” Richie paused before adding, “He looked pissed another immortal was tracking him.”

Duncan looked incredulous. “He came to a city as big as Seacouver and didn’t expect one of us?”

Richie shook his head. “More like, he didn’t expect resistance, period. I could take him,” Richie said confidently. “He looks like the kind that would be easy to piss off and force him to do something stupid. He also feels like he’s been in the Game a while but he’s not super experienced, either.”

Duncan’s gaze sharpened. “Explain.”

Richie grimaced. “It’s a trick I picked up in Paris. Amanda thinks long-term exposure to holy ground sharpens one’s ability to know strong another immortal is, especially the more times you spend processing a Quickening on holy ground. I know how many heads Scott’s taken, and I’m willing to bet it’s only seven over the last decade.”

“That’s an oddly precise number.”

“Lily mentioned last night that Scott had a collection of seven swords. He told Vanessa they were his lucky seven, that they were part of his destiny. Combined with the sense I have….” Richie splayed out his hands. “If Scott’s taken ten heads, I’ll be surprised. But I don’t think he’s as strong as I was at the same point. I also know you’ll feel better if you took the challenge, so I won’t.”

Duncan acknowledged that truth with a nod. “We won’t find him standing here. How long does the harbor cruise run?”

“Three hours; it’ll be over around twelve-thirty. If Scott’s like the stalker who tried to go after Amanda in Paris, he’ll want to hang out somewhere close.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want him near Vanessa.”

“Could report his whereabouts to the police,” Richie suggested. “They’ll arrest him as soon as he gets off the boat.”

“How long will that hold him?”

“Depends on how quickly they process him and whether he posts bail,” Richie said, shrugging. “At least a few hours.”

Duncan grimaced at that news. “And if they don’t arrest him?”

Richie considered it. “Well. I know you rarely play the ‘tag, I’m it,’ game, but Amanda, Nick, and I did it in Paris a lot. We’d pick our fight space and lead the immortal hunting us to it. That way, we controlled when and where the fight was and could make sure no one but the Watchers saw what happened.” Richie pointed to the video cameras installed in the corners of the parking garage. “We can’t hang around here waiting for Vanessa or for her ex to show up; someone will tell us to move along.”

Duncan thought for a moment. Pulling out his phone, he texted the dojo staff to cancel the day’s classes and asked Nene to post a notice on the door, since she lived closest. Richie’s phone vibrated in the breast pocket of his leather motorcycle jacket; he ignored it for the moment.

“I would rather not hunt him like he’d hunt us,” Duncan told Richie. “But I’d like to talk to him at least, maybe convince him to give up on Vanessa. I’d rather not take his head if I don’t have to. He has the rest of his life to live, and if I can point out he can live it happily elsewhere, I’d rather do so.”

Richie nodded.

“I know you said you’d yield the challenge to me, but do I need to ask you not to take his head if he runs away rather than take the challenge?” Duncan asked.

“I’m with you; I’d rather not have to do it,” Richie said honestly. “I don’t want to go home to Delara and Patrick with that kind of Quickening burning through my blood. They’ll understand, but – have you even talked to Vanessa yet about immortality?”

Duncan shook his head. “No.” He swore. “If it was Lily, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Lily will be excited and thrilled when we tell her,” Richie noted dryly. “And I’m inclined to tell her, if only because she’s connected to Patrick and Vanessa. Patrick’s finding it difficult not having someone else to talk to about this stuff who isn’t involved with him. As for Vanessa – you know how I feel about disclosure. I’d rather walk away than keep risking the people I love, but if you want them to have a say in a shared future, you have to do it. If Lily convinced Vanessa to pack up, sell or donate everything in the apartment she shared with Scott, that tells me Vanessa can see past whatever emotional state she’s experiencing to do what she thinks is right. That could mean she accepts what you have to say, but I don’t know what that means for you.”

Duncan considered Richie’s words a moment before he spoke. Duncan sighed heavily before saying, “Much as I’d like to keep pushing it off, I must tell Vanessa tonight. Scott seems like the type to take Vanessa by force if he gets the chance. I leave Lily to you; you have a better sense of her than I do. Even if I convince Scott to leave Vanessa alone, he won’t be the only one wanting to get close to her to get to me. She’s strong enough to handle the truth and familiar with how to keep dangerous secrets, but I can’t think about how she’ll react. If I let myself think about it too deeply, I won’t ever tell her, and–” He drew a deep breath before exhaling it. “You’re right. I can’t keep pretending that part of my life doesn’t matter, not when I love her as deeply as I do. I know she’s not Anne or Molly, but–”

“From the sounds of it, Molly couldn’t tell you she changed her mind without being bitter and hurtful.” Richie looked at him. “And if Anne ran into the dojo this afternoon and told you some immortal was making trouble for her, you wouldn’t refuse her – you’d just try to make it right. You taught me how to love with no hesitation, Mac. I think you’re underestimating Vanessa. She looks at you the way Tessa did. I haven’t seen a woman look at you like that in years.”

Duncan looked away briefly. “I hope you’re right. All I know is that the longer we wait to find Scott, the more likely he’ll think he can try again.” Duncan met his friend’s concerned gaze. “I don’t see him being stupid enough to jump off the tour boat in the middle of the tour. That’s attention he won’t want to draw, since that means he’s swimming back to shore. He strikes me as being vain enough about his appearance to not want to get wet. All the fashion disasters I’ve ever known thought they were bucking the trend somehow and were more fashionable than the rest.”

Richie asked, “How do you want to do this? I’m assuming that text you sent cancelled classes for the day so we can focus on this.”

Duncan nodded. “We’re already taking tomorrow, Saturday, and Monday off for the holiday; I figured we wouldn’t have too many people show up, anyway. Between the two of us, it shouldn’t take us long to find Scott Claire.”

Richie did not look surprised by the older immortal’s words. “Give me a minute to activate my headset in my helmet so we can coordinate.” He paused. “Do you want to bring in Joe and Genevieve?”

“Let’s not ask our Watchers to break their Oaths more than we already do.”

“I figured, but I know you used to ask Joe a lot.”

Duncan slanted Richie an exasperated look, not appreciating the reminder. “I also fucked up royally doing that.”

Richie held up his hands. “It’s been a while; wanted to make you hadn’t reverted to bad habits.”

Duncan snorted. “I’d like to make sure Joe lives to see a hundred, not die before then because of my stupidity. He’s grooming Genevieve to be his successor, you know.”

Richie flashed a grin. “I know. How’s your range for sensing others these days?”

“About half a mile if I don’t think about extending it. Yours?”

“Quarter mile. I also learned how to hide myself.”

Duncan blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Easier to show you.” Richie inhaled deeply, focused, and pulled in his Presence, thinning it, before exhaling slowly. For the first time in over twenty years, Duncan felt Richie’s immortal signature as if he had yet to take his first head.

Duncan looked at him, stunned at the transformation. “Richie – that makes you feel like you just died this morning for the first time.”

“I know,” Richie said grimly. “I get a headache if I keep this up for over twelve hours. I took the head of someone in Paris who had been taught how to hide this way. His favorite schtick was to pretend he was a new immortal in need of training and then use that false sense of security to take his new teacher’s head. He almost trapped Nick that way, but he wasn’t expecting me, and I scared him enough to let go of his control.” Richie looked at Duncan before adding, “And there’s something else I learned to do.” He closed his eyes, breathed in, opened his eyes, and what little immortal Presence remained flickered out of existence.

Duncan stared at his former student. “You’re like a ghost right now. If I didn’t know you, I’d pass you by and not know you were one of us.” He studied Richie, seeing the control and maturity Duncan had hoped to instill in him, learned more through experience and exposure than anything Duncan had taught. Part of Duncan grieved for that, aware that by pushing Richie out as soon as he had taken his first head, he had set in motion a path for Richie that he now regretted. “Sometime, not now, I’d like to talk more about how to do that.”

Richie nodded and let his Presence return to normal. The abrupt change made Duncan’s immortal-nearby-warning sound an alarm, as if Richie had just walked within striking distance. “If you want me to use these tricks, I will.”

“No, that feels underhanded and unnecessary. I want to talk to him, not hunt him. Not yet anyway.” Duncan considered this news, given what he wanted to do. “I’ll wait for him to get off the boat.”

“I have one of those GPS find-your-key things if you want to use it to track him, so we don’t have to sit around.”

Duncan blinked at that and narrowed his eyes. “You went headhunting with Amanda and Nick in Paris.”

“Not going to apologize for it, Mac. She forgets how dangerous the people she befriended or took as lovers really are until they ask her to do the shit she won’t do anymore. We used the tech because it enabled us to know where our enemies were so we wouldn’t drive ourselves crazy by staying in the bar all the time. You know how I can’t do that for too long before I feel caged.”

Duncan studied his former student. “You don’t think Scott’s going to just walk away once I talk to him.”

“Mac, your reputation precedes you, but from what I’ve seen, all that means is that the ones who walk away eventually get a bug up their asses and decide they want your head. If using a key tracker helps us do something other than spend all day waiting for Scott to make his move, then I’d rather drop one in his bag and use my phone to track him.”

Duncan grimaced at that assessment.

“How big is that tracker?”

Richie pulled it out of a pocket of his motorcycle jacket and passed it over to Duncan, who studied the tiny, plastic-wrapped, self-adhesive square before passing it back. “That’s a lot smaller than I was expecting.”

Richie nodded. “Amanda’s handiwork. It’s set up so you can stick it on someone and walk away. Range is about a mile and half for that model.”

“Did you already drop one in his bag or in his pocket?”

Richie smiled wolfishly. “Actually, I stuck one in his wallet. That one is a little bigger than the one I just showed you; it’s about the size of one of those tracking squares they use for anti-theft in books, so it has a fifteen-mile range.”

“I guess it was too much to hope you wouldn’t learn to be a better thief from Amanda.” Duncan tried to bite back his disappointment but heard his scolding tone and winced. “Sorry. I know even with her teaching, you wouldn’t go back to thieving, but I was hoping she wouldn’t try.”

Looking as though he had expected Duncan’s rebuke, the ex-thief snorted. “Did you even think I stood a chance once I started working for her? Sanctuary is a legal operation, but a bored Amanda is dangerous. Nick and I agreed letting her teach us what she knew about thieving was a better way to exercise her boredom than letting her convince us we needed to retrieve something that used to be hers from some museum or private collection.”

Duncan considered the notion and conceded its value. “Given that choice, I can see why you’d learn,” he admitted ruefully. “Did Scott notice you’d pickpocketed him?”

“Not even a clue.”

“Then let’s get coffee so you can help me figure out the best place to meet Scott after he comes off the boat.”

“I was hoping you would see it my way.” Richie put the kickstand down on his motorcycle and grabbed his helmet before leading the way to the closet coffee shop.

* * *

The city had built a small shopping plaza and park next to the pier where the tour boats docked. Duncan had not remembered the plaza and park’s existence until Richie had pointed it out on a map. Their discussion had made them both realize that the years they had spent away from Seacouver had left their knowledge of the city with gaps, since it appeared the downtown area had changed. Landmarks they had once counted on to navigate had been demolished or changed to support the city’s desire to create a bigger tourist destination on the waterfront. That had resulted in an hour-long walk through the potential target zone as they refamiliarized themselves with the area.

Now, Duncan used his immortal-sensing ability to feel when Scott disembarked the tour boat. He waited, gambling that, after Richie’s maneuvering to get Scott where he wanted him, Scott would want to figure out who had been chasing him. His gamble paid off. Scott stormed up to the park bench where Duncan waited.

“What the fuck do you want?” He got close enough to get in Duncan’s face.

Duncan did not smile. Instead, he took a moment to take in the other immortal. Scott looked like his fashion sense stopped in the _Miami Vice_ era. He wore a pastel blue unstructured suit jacket over jeans and sneakers with no socks. He carried a leather duffel bag with a shoulder strap.

“I want you to leave Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda alone,” Duncan stated, leaning forward. “She need not be stalked like a deer.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Scott protested.

Duncan favored him with a look that said he thought Scott thought he was stupid.

Scott froze. “Why do you care? She’s not worth your time.”

“Then why are you bothering her?”

“She stole something from me, and I want it back.” Anger flashed across Scott’s face before he looked at Duncan calculatingly. “Maybe you can help me get it back. She took my sword. That’s why I ran from you this morning.”

Duncan did not believe him for an instant. “I’m not an idiot. Leave Vanessa alone and leave Seacouver if you want to keep your head.”

“And who are you to protect her?” Scott sneered. “Last I heard, no one’s laid claim to this city since the Highlander left.”

“I’m no king to claim territory,” Duncan shot back calmly, “but your info’s out of date, Scott Claire. I’m Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, the other Highlander.”

Scott paled. “There’s more than one Highlander?” he asked nervously, backing up a step.

“Yes, Connor MacLeod is my cousin. Same clan, different vintage.”

“Fuck. Look, you can have her. Just… don’t kill me.” Scott looked terrified.

“You leave her and her friend Lily Walton alone for the rest of their lives and go home,” Duncan bargained, “and we won’t need to play the Game.”

“Okay, you got it,” Scott said hastily before he turned and ran away.

Not believing such a hastily made declaration, Duncan waited until he could no longer feel Scott, then gave him another twenty minutes, before he rose and headed up to the coffee shop where Richie waited. Noting the ‘no loitering – must make purchases to remain in café’ sign, he paid for a bottle of water before joining Richie at his table.

“Any sign of Scott?”

“He ran up this way, but he was out of breath by the time he got up here. He felt me and aborted whatever he had planned. My guess is he agreed to whatever you asked him and decided he’d agree you were the second coming of Jesus if it meant you left him alone to stalk Vanessa.”

“Great,” Duncan griped. “Do you know where he is now?”

Richie nodded. “According to my phone, he’s at the Best Western on Windy Lake. Here, hand me your phone and I’ll set you up so you can track him.”

“In a hurry to go somewhere?”

“I’d like to spend the rest of the day with Delara and Patrick; they’re taking off the rest of the week, and you should be thinking about getting Vanessa home.”

“What about Lily?” Duncan asked as he unlocked his phone and passed it over to Richie.

“Patrick’s picking her up and bringing her over to his and Delara’s house for dinner.” Richie quickly loaded an app onto Duncan’s phone, set it to track the unit number for the key tracker, and then handed it back. “App’s called ‘Key Finder.’ It’s really a legitimate app and a legal device. Amanda just worked with a company to extend the tracking range from two hundred feet to fifteen miles, and had the form factor trimmed so it would be less noticeable.”

“Is it available for sale here?”

“No. If anyone asks, this is us testing the device for a French company.” Richie flashed a smile. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“Let me know what time you’re planning on having dinner, and if Delara and Patrick mind having Vanessa and me as company. Some things might go better if we tell Vanessa and Lily at the same time.”

Richie called Delara. “Beautiful lady, do we have room for Vanessa and Duncan to come over for dinner?”

“As long as they don’t have any objections to eating what I’m cooking or eating at six. I’m making chicken stew because it’s easy,” Delara warned, “and I can feed many people with little prep or cleanup. I also don’t really want to have guests staying late. I want you to myself and Patrick if you’re staying over tonight.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Richie said. “Do you need me to pick up anything before I head your way?”

“No, I’m leaving work soon; it’s dead here. I’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home. Don’t expect me at the house before two, though; I need to eat lunch if I don’t want to overspend at the grocery store.”

“Be careful.”

“You too, Richie. I love you.”

“Love you, too, m’lady.” Richie turned to Duncan, who smothered a grin at hearing the endearment Richie used. “Not a problem. Dinner will be at six.”

“We’ll see you then.”


	11. Chapter 11

Seeing that Scott – or at least his wallet – was in a hotel and hadn’t moved, Duncan went to his dojo to practice katas, needing the exercise to calm his thoughts. Revealing immortality to someone he cared about had rarely gone well. Even telling Tessa the rest of the story – about the Game, the headhunters, why Connor had been so insistent they take in Richie – had not gone over well. Tessa had forgiven him, but he knew his secrecy had damaged some of the trust she had in him. His history had thrilled Anne, but she eventually came to believe that she did not want to compromise her principles. Molly had been, Duncan had thought, the perfect compromise: she had known he was immortal before they became lovers. His desire to protect her from his enemies became something she had used to justify her departure from his life. Duncan did not want another heartbreak. He was tired of being alone; part of the reason he wanted to run a dojo in Seacouver was to reconnect with those friends he considered part of his clan.

He had fully expected Richie to find a romantic partner; Richie never had a problem finding someone for an evening or a week. Discovering that the younger immortal wanted a more secure relationship was also not a surprise in hindsight. Richie had grown and matured since he had been a when-racing-season-was-over guest. Delara and Patrick suited who Richie was now: still a little reckless but less likely to be a liability, strong, compassionate, and in need of Richie’s desire to help.

Duncan wanted that for himself and thought he found it in Vanessa. Vanessa fascinated him. He loved her directness, her resilience, and her passion. Yet he kept wondering if he would be better off by not telling Vanessa – but he knew if he or Richie told Lily, Lily would not contain her joy at knowing that secret. Lily believed in fairies and other supernatural beings as much as she believed that most people were self-centered assholes. Telling her but not Vanessa would only prove Lily’s beliefs were valid.

Needing to clear his head, Duncan focused on the katas, making sure he executed each movement with clarity and precision. He could not predict the future. All he could do was hope for the best, and know that this time, he would not be alone when he disclosed immortality to the woman he loved. Having Richie nearby had made telling Anne easier, because his testimony added weight.

By the time Duncan finished, he was sweating but felt more focused. He headed home, showered, and changed clothes. From the collection of swords and daggers he kept in a locked cabinet in the master bedroom closet, he selected the dagger he planned to use for demonstration, putting it into a leather sheath. He also grabbed a hand towel and a spare shirt, and put the towel, shirt, and the dagger in a small zippered tote bag. A glance at the tracking app told Duncan that Scott had left the hotel and was now at a nearby restaurant, but still nowhere near Vanessa’s work. Reassured by that information, Duncan then headed to Vanessa’s office.

Olivia met Duncan in the lobby once the security guard called her. She led the way into a waiting elevator car. “Vanessa’s in a meeting with the boss, but she’ll be out in about fifteen minutes. We’re closing at four, so your timing is perfect,” Olivia said as she swiped her key card for the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor.

“I was hoping for that,” Duncan replied, smiling. He took a seat in the guest chair in the lobby of the Chase Pitkin Media Services office and waved off Olivia’s offer of a glass of water to drink.

Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa walked out and kissed Duncan. “Hi, cariño. Olivia told me you were here, and Lily texted me – she said they invited us to dinner at Delara’s and Patrick’s. She said I was not to refuse.” Worried, Vanessa looked at Duncan as he, with a touch on her back, guided her out of the office. “Do you know what’s going on? Is it Scott?”

“Let’s wait until we’re in the car,” Duncan suggested. “How did work go today?”

Vanessa made a moue of disappointment but accepted the redirect. “Good. We have a project that will start on Monday, so it will be ‘hope you had a good weekend, let’s get right to it.’” She smiled and shrugged. “It’s midsummer, so everyone wants the pretty weather for the video.”

“Does the demand for your work taper off once fall starts?”

“Some,” Vanessa acknowledged as they exited the elevator and the building lobby. “We refuse to video in lightning, high winds, and rainstorms, as it’s not safe, but I know from last year what to expect. I’ll be out on a job site freezing my butt off at some point this winter.”

“Do you have a good winter coat?”

“Not one that’s waterproof enough, based on last year. I’m waiting until the fall sales to see if I can get one that’s worth the price.” They crossed the street to the parking garage. “What did you do today, cariño?”

“Spent time with Richie; we cancelled classes.” Duncan shook his head. “If you want to shop for a winter coat, now is the time to get one. Pre-season sales are already starting.”

Startled by that, Vanessa looked at him. “I thought you didn’t worry about money.”

“I don’t have to, that’s true,” Duncan acknowledged, “but I haven’t forgotten the value of a dollar, either. The recent recession was a wake-up call for many investors, including me.”

“I can’t see you shopping for clothes on a bargain rack,” Vanessa murmured. “All the stuff you wear looks well-loved and well-crafted.”

Duncan chuckled. “I buy things that will last,” he agreed. “But if you wanted help with picking out something to wear, darling, I’d love to do it.”

“Richie said you and Tessa really taught him to appreciate a lot of things.”

Nodding, Duncan led the way to where he parked his car. “He told me once that I took him from having nothing to having everything. I wanted to be sure he understood what he was getting so he would appreciate them.”

“Did it work?” Vanessa wondered.

“Mostly,” Duncan said with a smile. “It took him longer to break the habit of holding onto things that had fallen apart. I’d forgotten what a hard habit that was to break.”

Once they were in his car, Duncan waited until they were out of the garage and on the road before he told Vanessa, “I talked to Scott this morning. He agreed to leave you and Lily alone.”

Vanessa stared at him. “Just like that?” she asked incredulously. “Why would you be able to convince him? He won’t give up.” Desperately, she added, “He’s planning something. All you’ve done is give him room to think! Scott never keeps his promises.”

“That may be,” Duncan acknowledged, “but the result for now is that I know where he is, and he isn’t camped out at Lily’s townhouse, waiting for you to come home.”

That caught Vanessa’s attention. “How?”

“Richie put a key tracker in his wallet.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Well, he promised Amanda he would test the devices out here in the US so she could use the data for market research.” Duncan used the excuse of a stoplight to glance at his girlfriend. “I don’t know if it’s illegal in this state to do that kind of market research, mind you. But I also don’t think it’s unfair to be certain of where Scott is for your peace of mind and sense of security. He stalked you and his text messages to you make it clear he wants you. Richie quoted a statistic at me today that said stalkers are more likely to kill their victims. I don’t want you dead, my darling Vanessa, and I especially don’t want to feel like I didn’t do enough to protect you.”

That quieted Vanessa’s objections, and she reached across the seat to lay her hand on Duncan’s thigh. “He knows how to fight with a sword.”

“So do I,” Duncan told her. “I’m not scared of him, my love. He’s more scared of me.”

Vanessa eyed him dubiously but did not press the point.

It didn’t take them long to get to Delara and Patrick’s house. Immortal presence filled Duncan’s senses the closer he got to the house. He relaxed when he saw Richie’s motorcycle in the driveway. Duncan parked his convertible behind Richie’s motorcycle, which Richie had parked sideways so Duncan would have enough room in the sloped driveway to park.

Delara greeted Duncan and Vanessa at the door, hugging Duncan and then, after asking for permission, Vanessa. “Richie told me your ex is stalking you,” Delara exclaimed as she hugged Vanessa. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with that shit, but I’m sure between Richie and Duncan, they’ll take care of things. Duncan, can I see you upstairs for a minute?”

Lily stepped forward, distracting Vanessa while Duncan followed Delara upstairs. They stepped into the bedroom Delara and Patrick had turned into a home office/gaming room. Posters from popular fantasy and sci-fi movies decorated the walls; one bookcase was full of novels and sci-fi-related merchandise.

“Do Lily or Vanessa speak French?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll talk in French. I don’t want to censor my words and I know sound carries in this house,” Delara began. Switching languages easily, she said, “Richie told me you’re planning on telling Vanessa and Lily together about immortality tonight.”

Duncan nodded and answered in the same language. “Yes. I thought they would appreciate not having to hide it from each other.”

“I assume you brought a knife and a towel?” At his nod, Delara took a deep breath. “I’ll bring down an old blanket then. I don’t want to scrub bloodstains out of the carpet tonight.”

“Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate you accepting this part of who we are?”

Delara half-smiled. “No, but I’m sure someone will tell us we’re crazy for it.” She looked at Duncan. “I love Richie and I adore having you as a friend, but a part of me wishes you’d already cut Scott’s head off.”

“I know what it’s like to obsess over someone,” Duncan noted quietly. “I was younger back then and a lot less cultured. A friend of mine was kind enough to point out she didn’t deserve to be treated like she was a deer in the forest I was hunting.”

“Not everyone deserves a second chance, especially if what you’re giving them is a second chance to hurt someone,” Delara retorted. She sighed heavily. “But I’ve already had this argument once today with Patrick and Richie, so I won’t rehash it with you. Is there anything you’ll need from me?”

“Lily will probably jump for joy,” Duncan noted dryly. “For someone who’s a cynic, she has a deep-rooted love for the supernatural. Vanessa – I don’t know.”

Delara nodded. “Well, the good thing is that Patrick and I are here, and we’ll help anyway we can. Do you want to do this before dinner or after?”

“After,” Duncan decided. “I’d hate to waste your cooking.”

“Well, don’t stab yourself in your stomach then. I remember how gross it was when Richie did that to you in practice a few weeks ago. Thank God Joe and Genevieve were there to assure me that yes, if it were me, it would be far more of a disaster than it is for you.”

“Delara, have I mentioned lately I love how pragmatic you are?”

Delara snorted. “I’m out of room in my bed and you have Vanessa.”

“Do you think she’ll accept this as readily as I think Lily will?”

Delara sighed and studied Duncan. “My gut says she won’t say anything. She gets quiet when she’s overwhelmed. I was watching her at last Saturday’s dinner party, when we had thirty people here to celebrate midsummer. The noisier and drunker people got, the quieter she became. I was a few minutes away from pulling you aside and asking you to take her home when you said you two were leaving.”

Duncan grimaced. He had thought Vanessa had gotten overwhelmed at that party. It did not feel good to have his hunch confirmed, especially since Vanessa had told him she had just felt tired.

Delara met his gaze with a reassuring smile. “For what it’s worth, I think she’ll stand with you once she’s finished processing it all. Let’s get dinner going; I’m hungry.”

* * *

Having just been at Delara and Patrick’s the previous weekend, Vanessa knew to expect a delicious dinner. After last weekend’s party where the house felt full of people, it felt oddly intimate to sit at the table with only herself, Lily, and Duncan as guests. Vanessa didn’t count Richie as a guest; she suspected he spent enough time to consider Delara and Patrick’s house a second home. Delara had made a pot of _khoresht fesenjan_, which turned out to be a chicken stew made with walnuts and pomegranate juice. Delara served couscous to go with it. The combination of flavors was new to Vanessa, but she loved it.

“What movies do you like to watch, Vanessa?” Patrick asked towards the end of the meal.

Vanessa chuckled and shared a look with Lily. “I have a weakness for the animated ones, but I’ll watch anything if I have a friend to share it with.”

“You also refuse to stop watching if you start and it’s horrible,” Lily noted.

Vanessa shrugged. “I keep wanting to see if it can get any worse.”

Patrick laughed. “The usual answer is ‘yes,’” he replied.

Duncan looked at her. “That explains why you haven’t picked many movies to watch.”

“I really will watch anything. I don’t follow actors so it’s a surprise every time I see someone I recognize.” Vanessa looked sheepish. “At least I know if I ever win a pop culture trivia contest, it’ll be because all the questions were about something other than movies and music?”

The group laughed. “That means you’re perfect for Mac,” Richie interjected. “You can go with him to the opera and the ballet and have fun.”

“I’ve never been to either,” Vanessa murmured. “You’ve gone a lot together?”

“I keep trying to educate him, but it doesn’t stick.” Duncan looked at Richie, amused.

“You got me to appreciate both,” Richie countered. “But I’d rather attend the ballet over the opera; at least then, I don’t spend half the performance wondering if I need subtitles.”

Duncan grinned widely, pleased by that declaration. “You learned French, Spanish, Gaelic, and Arabic; you should have no problem learning Italian.”

“I’d rather not,” Richie retorted. “Delara’s teaching me Persian right now; I need not add another language.”

Vanessa blinked, surprised by the litany of languages. “You know Gaelic and Arabic?” she asked Richie. “What made you learn those?”

“The Gaelic is my fault,” Duncan volunteered. “I figured if he was learning French, he might as well learn Scots Gaelic at the same time.”

“And I picked up Arabic traveling,” Richie said neutrally.

“You have an interesting accent,” Delara noted. “You don’t even sound American, either.”

“I don’t?” Richie looked startled. He said something that made Delara blush.

“She’s right,” Duncan said. “You sound more British.”

“You know Arabic, cariño?” Vanessa asked, surprised.

“Yes, I was in Egypt for several months on behalf of the British government some years ago,” Duncan replied.

“Black Knight Industries wanted me to learn it,” Vanessa revealed. “That’s when I decided I should look for employment elsewhere. Then my mother died, and it just became one more reason not to stay in Alexandria.”

Hearing the sadness in her voice, Duncan clasped her hand reassuringly.

“What did you tell Delara in Arabic?” Lily asked Richie.

“I said, ‘I have loved many, but none so beautiful as you.’” Richie grinned.

“Flatterer,” Patrick interjected, amused. “Does anyone want another helping?”

“No, I’m good,” Lily said. “That was delicious.”

Duncan and Vanessa echoed her words.

Within a few minutes, the dishes were in the dishwasher and the group had moved to the living room. Delara brought down an old green military blanket and set it on the floor of the living room before sitting down next to Patrick. Richie perched on the armrest of the sofa, next to Patrick. Lily took the far end of the L-shaped sofa, expecting Duncan to want to sit next to Vanessa.

As if that was a cue, Richie looked at Duncan. “Looks like the floor’s all yours, Mac.” A hint of wicked glee colored Richie’s tone.

Duncan rebuked him with a sharp look.

Richie just shrugged unrepentantly. “You expect me to resist such an obvious line?”

“You’re not making this any easier.”

Richie crossed his arms. “And you’re stalling.” He looked ready to say more, but Patrick reached over and put a hand on over his mouth. Richie kissed his palm but took the hint.

Delara leaned against her husband while biting her lip.

Not understanding the undercurrent or why Delara and Patrick looked abruptly nervous, Vanessa looked to her boyfriend. “What’s going on?”

Duncan kissed her sweetly before moving back and picking up the bag he had brought in with him. “I need to tell you and Lily something important. It concerns Scott, me, and Richie.”

“What the fuck do you have in common with that useless idiot?” Lily demanded.

Duncan took a deep breath. “Immortality.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “No way! You’re shitting me. Prove it!”

Duncan stepped onto the blanket, pulled a knife out from his bag, and stabbed himself in the heart. He collapsed to his knees on the blanket, drawing gasps from Vanessa and Lily.

Vanessa rushed to his side, shocked by his move. Without thinking too deeply about it, she pulled out the knife, dropping it to the blanket. Automatically, she reached out to touch the wound. As if in a daze, she drew back her hand, seeing blood on her fingertips.

Lily touched Vanessa’s hand, then tasted the blood experimentally.

Lily’s shocked, “Fuck, that’s real!” echoed in the room.

“Jesus, Lily, did you have to taste it?” Patrick asked incredulously.

“He could have used stage blood!” Lily defended herself.

“Not for this,” Richie countered, drawing her attention.

Vanessa heard their conversation as if it were through a screen door. All she could see was the man she loved, dead. Then, before she could say anything, blue lightning stitched up the wound as if it had never existed; the only evidence were the bloody knife, the blood on her hand, and the hole it had created in Duncan’s shirt.

“What – what’s happening?” she asked, looking to Richie.

“Just wait,” he told her, “and watch.”

With a shudder and a sharply drawn breath of air, Duncan revived. He met Vanessa’s shocked gaze. “I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, born in Glenfinnan, Scotland in 1592, and I cannot die unless you take my head.”

Duncan took the knife and put on the towel Richie handed him, then set it on the coffee table, which Patrick had pushed back in anticipation of this demonstration. Worried by Vanessa’s lack of reaction, Duncan studied her a moment, then looked past her to Lily, who was bouncing in her seat.

“Do you need more proof, Lily?”

“No.” Lily shook her head, then reconsidered. “Is it too much to ask for proof from you, Richie?”

Richie took the knife, wiped it clean, then used it to slash open his left forearm, dripping blood onto the blanket. Like Duncan’s wound, blue lightning stitched it closed. Vanessa glanced up at Richie’s face and saw him grimace with the pain.

“Does it hurt both ways?” she asked.

Richie nodded. “I don’t enjoy dying, so I tend to not be as dramatic as Mac. But I was born in Seacouver in 1972. I died at nineteen; a mugger shot me.”

That made Lily narrow her eyes. “You stop aging as soon as you die?”

“Yes,” Richie said. “I’ll look nineteen forever.”

“How old were you, Duncan?” Lily asked excitedly, leaning forward.

“Thirty,” he admitted. “We were fighting a neighboring clan, and I was mortally wounded.”

Vanessa stared at him. “What makes you think Scott’s like you and Richie?” she demanded.

“We can tell when another one like us is nearby,” Duncan said.

“It’s a sudden pressure in my head, like a neon light turning on unexpectedly,” Richie explained. “And a faint smell that’s like the air before a lightning strike. Sometimes, it’s stronger, more distinct. I can tell certain friends apart if I’m with them for an extended period.” He pointed to Duncan. “He feels like a thunderstorm. His cousin is like the air before a hurricane.”

“Have you told him that?” Duncan asked Richie, amused.

“Yes, but let’s not get distracted. To answer your question, Vanessa – that sense is how we can tell Scott’s an immortal like us.”

Vanessa absorbed that information like water soaking into a towel.

When she continued to say nothing, Lily turned to her. “Vanessa? You okay? I mean, I’m excited to know the urban legends about swordsmen in Seacouver are true, but we’re not talking about me.” Worried, she looked at Duncan. “She’s in shock.”

Duncan moved to kneel at her feet and took her hands in his. “Vanessa darling, I’m still me. I still love you. Please, talk to me.”

Vanessa looked down at their joined hands. The look she gave Duncan was full of confusion. “You….” Whatever thought crossed her mind did not make it out of her mouth, but she looked stricken.

“Would it be easier if I spoke Spanish? Or Russian?” he asked her.

She shook her head slowly, then reached out to touch the area over Duncan’s heart. Tears started to fall as she replied, “I tried to kill Scott once. I even left the apartment. I was so certain I would come back and he would be dead. But he acted as if I was out of my mind.”

“You weren’t,” Duncan assured her. “What he did to you was cruel. He should have told you the truth. Don’t cry, love. I’m here.”

Through hitching breaths, she said, “He said he had a destiny to fill, that he would be the last one standing. He wanted me to see it, so I’d know what he was.” She took a deep breath and wiped her tears with the back of a hand. “I didn’t want to believe him. I want him dead. He stole from me and he hurt me.” Fire blazed in her eyes as she declared, “Promise me you’ll take his head, Duncan.”

“I won’t make that promise,” Duncan told her, “but I will promise that if he challenges me, I’ll fight him. I don’t want to kill anyone, sweet Vanessa.”

Not getting the reassurance she wanted, Vanessa looked at Duncan and Richie. “He’ll cheat. He bragged about how he bought his sword at the mall and cheated his way to win.”

Patrick interjected, “Vanessa, I know you’re worried, but you’re dealing with one of the most honorable men I know. Duncan might have been born in another century, but he has principles.”

Nodding, Duncan reminded her, “Vanessa, I could get arrested just talking about murdering someone.”

Vanessa closed her eyes briefly. “Scott said he had to kill to play the Game.”

“Not always,” Duncan told her. “Sometimes we agree to walk away.”

“Not all immortals play the Game, either,” Richie added. “Mac and I know someone who surrounds herself with private security, so she doesn’t have to deal with people wanting her head, because she doesn’t want to kill anyone.” He rose and grabbed a box of facial tissues and passed it to Vanessa, who took them gratefully before using a few to dab at her eyes and blow her nose. “Most immortals will respect holy ground, which is anywhere sanctified to the gods, and not harm anyone who remains there until and unless they step outside that sanctified area.” Richie grimaced. “Personally, I think luring someone off holy ground is cheating, but that’s a known risk of the Game.”

“Game?” Lily asked. “What game?”

“Immortals fight each other in duels,” Richie noted after a glance at Duncan. “We call it a Game, but it’s a genocide. Nobody knows why or how it started. All I know for sure is that Mac’s been playing it for four and a half centuries, I’ve been playing it since 1994, a friend of ours has been playing it for at least two thousand years, and there doesn’t seem to be a shortage of people who think taking our heads will increase their chances of being the last immortal standing.”

“What does the winner get?” Lily wondered.

“Power,” Duncan replied. “When we take another immortal’s head, we gain their knowledge – everything they ever learned and experienced and every skill they ever had – through a transfer we call the Quickening.”

“Multiply that across however many of us are out there, and it’s enough power to rule the world,” Richie added.

Lily looked at Patrick and Delara. “You don’t look surprised, which means you already knew this.”

“Richie tried walking away from us before telling us about immortality,” Delara admitted. “The more you’re with an immortal, the more likely you become a target. I didn’t care then, and I still don’t, because I’d rather die knowing someone who meant it when he said he’d die to protect me loved me.”

“Sometimes I get terrified,” Patrick admitted, “and start thinking about all the reasons Delara and I shouldn’t stay involved with Richie, especially when he’s had to convince some idiot why playing the Game right now is a stupid idea, but–” he took a deep breath. “I don’t know how I could go back to pretending immortals didn’t exist. I don’t know how not to be worried about Richie or Duncan or any of the friends we’ve made through them. I’d probably still obsess over their continued health, much to Delara’s annoyance.” He gestured with his hands, underscoring his words. “I’d still love Richie as deeply as I love Delara, and I’d still care greatly for the friend Duncan has become.”

Lily glanced at Vanessa. “I’m in. You, my dear friend, look like you’re still processing.”

“Don’t push, Lily,” Patrick recommended. “I know you’re excited, but we knew you’d be. You’ve always wanted to know the old legends and urban myths were true. Give Vanessa a minute or two.”

“I know, but – how immortal is immortal? Like, do you die if you catch the plague?”

“Yes,” Duncan said grimly. “Anything short of complete decapitation is something we’ll heal from.”

“Mind you, being stuck in a box and suffocating to death or dying in a fire usually results in a drastic loss of sanity,” Richie commented. “And while it would take a serious amount of alcohol or drugs to do it, we can get addicted.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Lily remarked. “Wait – is that why you’re super careful of how much you drink, Richie?”

“One reason,” Richie admitted. “The other is that, after a decade working as a bartender, I’ve seen what it does to people. And let me be clear – we’re still people, not monsters.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, Vanessa,” Duncan said. “But I needed to be clear in my head that you were ready to hear it. Meeting Scott earlier made me realize you might already know some things about immortals.”

Vanessa said nothing for a moment before she took a deep breath and looked at Duncan. “Where is Scott now?”

Duncan pulled out his phone and winced when he checked the tracking app. “At your place.”

“Call the police on him,” Vanessa suggested. “I want to go home and get clean clothes.” She took another breath. “And I don’t want to be tempted into asking you to do things you’ll regret. I’m sorry what I asked earlier.”

“No, you’re not,” Duncan noted gently. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

She smiled ruefully, acknowledging his assessment.

He rose and kissed her.

“May I suggest we do this in a way that makes it believable to the police and we don’t get in trouble for tracking the idiot with a key tracker?” Richie asked.

Nodding, Duncan asked, “Are you staying here?”

“Unless you need me to go with you.”

“I’d like the backup,” Duncan said. “I don’t trust him to try to block us when we leave the house again.”

Not surprised by that request, Richie nodded and went to retrieve his motorcycle gear after kissing Delara and Patrick goodbye.

“Lily, do you mind staying with me and Vanessa, at least for the weekend?” Duncan asked.

“No. If he can sense you like you can sense him, knowing you’re around will piss him off and make him more willing to do something. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. Vanessa’s in my guest room and I don’t want to set the precedent that you can sleep over, if only because I promised Vanessa not to have overnight guests either.”

“What are you planning on doing?” Lily asked.

“Call 911 when we get close enough that I can sense him,” Duncan told her. “He’s not experienced enough to have the range I do.”

Startled, Lily studied him. A slow smile crept upon her lips as she murmured, “I might just enjoy this.”

Vanessa said nothing, as if agreeing to go with Duncan had exhausted her. Concerned, Duncan asked, “Vanessa darling, are you okay with this?”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to see him again, but I don’t want you hurt either.”

Duncan took her in his arms and held her before dropping a kiss on her lips. “I love you, Vanessa. If it means I call the police to arrest Scott, I will, but if I say I know where he is from halfway across the city, I’ll have to admit to putting a key tracker on him. I’d rather not lose that advantage just yet.”

Nodding her understanding, she let him guide her out of Delara and Patrick’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any bets on whether Scott's coming back or whether he's sufficiently scared to stay away? :-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to N for beta reading.

Half a mile from Lily’s house, Duncan stopped the car; Richie pulled his motorcycle to a stop next to him.

“Scott’s at the house,” Duncan announced.

He turned to Vanessa and Lily, who rode in the car with him. “I will get as close as I can and see if he runs rather than face me. If he doesn’t, stay in the car until either I or Richie come to get you.”

Both women nodded agreement.

“What if he runs towards us?” Lily asked, worried.

“Let me deal with that,” Duncan told her.

Richie hung back when Duncan started the car and headed towards the townhome community. Like most townhome communities, street parking was at a premium. Lily’s townhome was the center unit of seven homes, with the two units on the end having the luxury of two-car garages, while the other five had single-car garages. Fortunately, there was enough room for Duncan to park his car in the driveway in front of the garage. He could still feel Scott in the vicinity. Richie’s Presence had vanished, making Duncan think Richie was hiding himself so Scott could not sense him. That maneuver made sense; making Scott think only one immortal was near Vanessa gave Duncan and Richie an advantage. Still, Duncan made a note to discuss Richie’s willingness to use that trick; it felt more underhanded and dishonest than Duncan preferred.

Grimly, Duncan let Lily unlock the front door of the townhouse before preceding her and Vanessa inside. He checked the interior before letting the women pack their bags for the weekend.

Duncan’s phone rang just as Lily had packed and was carrying her bag downstairs.

“He’s coming back,” Richie reported. “Better get out there before he slashes your tires, Mac.”

“Thanks.” Duncan tucked his phone in the inside pocket of the hip-length leather coat he had worn to hide his sword. To Lily, who heard the call, he said, “Don’t leave the house and lock it behind me.”

“Right. I’ll get Vanessa to hurry.”

Duncan stepped out to see Scott pulling up in a rented Dodge Charger. Scott exited the sports car, still looking like a fashion disaster.

“Vanessa’s mine,” Scott began. “She was mine long before she knew you, and she promised me. She owes me.”

Duncan moved to lean against the back bumper of his convertible, careful not to cross the property line. He crossed his arms and looked at Scott. “That’s not the way I heard it,” Duncan countered.

“You’ll pay for this.”

“I don’t think so,” Duncan said.

Scott drew his sword. Its blue-black edge and oversized batwing guard made it look like it was better suited for wall decoration than battle. “My sword against yours, Highlander. We’ll see who wins.”

“Not tonight,” Duncan apologized as the police cars drew up.

“Your head will be mine,” Scott boasted.

“Seacouver Police. Put the sword down,” an officer commanded.

Within short order, the police arrested Scott for attempted burglary, stalking, threatening someone with a deadly weapon, and resisting arrest. While he was being arrested, he kept arguing with police, claiming they had no right to arrest him despite at least one officer seeing him waving the sword.

The police soon left. Duncan’s phone rang again. “I’m following the police to the station,” Richie reported, “just to be sure. I’ll let you know if something happens.”

“Don’t be obvious and get yourself arrested,” Duncan cautioned.

Richie snorted. “Not likely. Let me know if you want to meet for brunch on Sunday.”

“Will do. Watch your head, Richie.”

“You do the same, Mac.”

Satisfied, Duncan headed back inside.

“We heard the police,” Lily exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“Scott’s been arrested. Richie’s following, just to make sure he doesn’t escape before he’s booked into jail.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to worry?” Lily asked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Duncan dissented. “I wouldn’t rule out Scott dying to escape.”

Lily winced. “I will never think of that phrase the same way ever again.” She looked at Vanessa, who had gone quiet again.

With a sigh, she guided her friend out to Duncan’s car. When he started to speak, hoping to get a response out of Vanessa, Lily shook her head sharply.

Once they were back on the road, Lily asked Duncan, “When did you first come to America?”

“1816,” Duncan said. “Went to Montana. My cousin likes to tease me I couldn’t settle in New York like he did. He fought against the British in the American Revolutionary War.”

“How much older is your cousin?” Lily wondered.

“Seventy-four years,” Duncan said, worried by Vanessa’s continued silence. He suspected Lily was deliberately asking him the questions she thought Vanessa wanted answered. He also suspected Vanessa was in shock. “I promised Connor I’d introduce Vanessa to him Saturday, but if you’d like to meet him, I can arrange it.”

“I’d love that. Do most immortals have a family?”

“Connor and I are unique in that way, that we can legitimately claim family ties. Most immortals are foundlings. I’ve heard rumors that the oldest and strongest of us know how immortal babies come to be, but,” Duncan shrugged, “Connor’s one of the strongest immortals I know. If he knows, he hasn’t told me yet.”

“Would he have reason to?”

Duncan chuckled dryly. “He might. He was my teacher and still likes to kick my ass occasionally to make sure I don’t take my skills for granted. He also likes to give me info when he thinks I’m ready for it, which is sometimes long after I needed it.”

Lily chuckled. “And then probably teases you about not asking him?” she surmised.

Duncan grinned. “Exactly. Never mind that for most of the time we’ve known each other, the time I needed it would have required a letter sent by ship to where I last knew him to be, and he usually had moved on from there. I really don’t miss the way we used to have to wait for news.”

“Do all immortals have teachers?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, and the level of instruction varies for those who get lucky enough to have one. Most immortals who survive past their first few years as an immortal have had someone who at least gave them the basics of surviving as an immortal or were lucky enough to figure it out on their own through determination and chance.”

“Did you know what Richie would be when you found him?”

“Connor’s better at sensing pre-immortals than I am,” Duncan admitted. “And I was out of practice back then, so I was glad he was there when we found Richie.”

“Did you tell Richie before he died?”

“No. Tessa, my girlfriend then, wanted me to, but Richie was reckless and used to deciding in the moment without thinking about consequences. I didn’t want him dying young if I could help it.” Duncan grimaced at the memory. “The same mugger shot Tessa and Richie. It’s made Richie more of an advocate for disclosure.”

“Because he feels like he could’ve made a difference, maybe saved Tessa?”

“Initially, that was his argument, but of late, it’s more because he thinks we should inform the people we care about before someone hurts them to get to us.”

“Do you fear people telling others what you are?”

“The time is coming when we might have to reveal ourselves out of necessity. Technology is making it more difficult to pretend I don’t have a history of looking exactly the same. But yes, I do. People have always feared the different among us. I’ve fought in enough wars to know the depths humanity will sink to in the name of winning. Plus, I’ve had previous lovers reject being with me because they didn’t want the danger associated with my life or they thought I was some kind of monster.”

Lily nodded. “How dangerous is your life?”

“People I love have been kidnapped, shot, and killed,” Duncan said bluntly. “And the duels I fight in rarely end in both of us walking away alive. If I win, my opponent is permanently dead. Some would call that murder.”

“But it’s a kind of self-defense. Your opponent wants you dead, so you have to defend yourself,” Lily reasoned.

“I’ve never had to argue it in a court of law,” Duncan noted grimly, “but I’ve known of immortals who have. They’re usually branded murderers.”

“Hence the secrecy,” Lily murmured. “And the fear of coming out publicly.”

“Yes.”

“But you hope that when that coming out day happens, there will enough immortals like you who are decent human beings that whoever calls for a witch hunt will be quickly silenced and derided as idiots.”

“Something like that,” Duncan said with a nod. “Though preferably with minimal violence and loss of reputation.”

“You’ve seen how crowds work,” Lily noted dryly. “Does having a teacher mean the difference between someone who survives their first few years as immortal and someone who doesn’t?”

“Usually, yes,” Duncan said. “Those who live past a mortal lifetime have also found reasons to keep living. Connor is one of mine; so is Richie. I learned a long time ago, too, that I do better when I have someone to love in my life, someone I can care for and support and explore what our lives together bring.”

“Even if you spend most of it trying to figure out how to get rid of guys like Scott?” Lily asked.

“I hope not,” Duncan said seriously, stopping at a light and glancing back at Lily. “Richie has a theory that some years are worse than others because it’s the end of the decade or the end of the century. I don’t know if that’s right, mind you, but I haven’t been studying the pattern as much as a friend of his has been. The last year has not been as bad as the first year he spent as my ward; people challenged me every week back then. I don’t expect it being that bad again for a long while.” He parked in the parking lot behind his building and shut off the engine before looking at Vanessa, who still sat, almost frozen.

“Come on, Vanessa,” Lily said, “we’re here at Duncan’s.”

Vanessa exited the car as if on autopilot and walked to the back door, where she waited expectantly.

To Duncan, Lily said, “Put her to bed as if she’s the frailest person. She’ll wake up in the morning with the questions I didn’t ask yet.”

“Was she like this after you helped her clean out the apartment she shared with Scott?”

Lily nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The good news is that if you weren’t the person she wants to be with, she wouldn’t have gotten in the car.”

Duncan grimaced at that statement but moved quickly to lead the way upstairs to his apartment. Leaving Vanessa in the living room, Duncan gave Lily the tour, then showed her the guest room. Duncan had decorated the guest room in a mix of coastal hues, taking inspiration from a seaside hotel room he had once visited. The oak bed frame was a modern reproduction of an antique four-poster.

“This is pretty,” Lily murmured and set down her bag. “I see where Richie got his sense of style.”

Duncan smiled at that. “Let me know if you need anything. I have a security system on the doors and elevator, so if you need to leave before I get up, let me know or the alarm will ring the security monitoring people. Also, the front door goes to an unsafe staircase, so don’t use it. I haven’t fixed it because it discourages solicitors.”

Lily chuckled. “I like that. I don’t plan to go anywhere.” She hesitated before adding, “Vanessa is basically on low-power mode right now. She’ll wash herself and put herself to bed, but you should check in and make sure she hasn’t forgotten to turn off the water.”

“Appreciate that. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge or pantry if you’re hungry; I usually keep it well stocked in case Richie comes over.”

“I noticed he eats a lot.”

“Downside of dying at nineteen is that his metabolism never leveled out to an adult one, so he still burns calories like a teenager,” Duncan explained.

“That explains partly why he knows where all the good places to eat are.”

Duncan nodded. “Are you really okay with knowing about immortals?”

Lily considered the question with a slight tilt of her head. “I’m relieved I wasn’t wrong to think you were the same guy the ‘Seacouver’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ list named back in the late ‘90s. Can I also just say, for the record, this is the fucking coolest secret I’ve ever got to share in?”

Duncan chuckled.

“Go take care of Vanessa; I’ll be fine,” Lily told him. “And don’t worry about me telling anyone without your permission – I don’t want to see you or Richie dead or worse.”

“Appreciate it, Lily.”

Taking his cue, Duncan headed for the master bedroom. He found Vanessa in the shower, a towel wrapped around her body, but she had not moved, as if her brain had gotten stuck.

Seeing her like that, he went back to the bedroom, found her suitcase, and retrieved her nightgown and underwear. Going back to the bathroom, he told her, “Vanessa, let me help you out of the shower so you can get dressed.”

Blinking, she looked down at her feet, then took his hand and stepped out of the shower stall. She dropped the towel; he hung it up. He handed her the underwear; she put it on. He then handed her the nightgown. At her look of confusion, he talked her through putting it on, since it slipped over her head. It was as Lily had warned him: some things were a little beyond Vanessa’s level of comprehension.

“Darling, I hope this doesn’t embarrass you in the morning,” Duncan murmured as he guided her to bed. Ignoring her lack of response, he told her, “I’ll be right back. I need to set the security alarm.”

When he came to bed a few minutes later, she had crawled under the covers on the right side of the bed. She looked asleep.

His hope she would be awake, coherent, and willing to talk died a quiet death. Biting back his disappointment, Duncan changed into pajamas, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed next to her, pulling her close. She stiffened slightly.

“It’s just me, Vanessa darling,” he told her.

Vanessa relaxed into Duncan’s embrace. Relieved, Duncan held her close.

* * *

#### Friday, July 4

In the morning, Duncan woke to find Vanessa still asleep. He let her sleep, figuring the shock of the previous night’s events called for such consideration. He used the open space near the top of the stairs as his workout area, then showered and dressed in jeans and a green short-sleeve three-button Henley shirt. When he exited the bathroom, Vanessa was awake and had changed out of her nightgown and into a sleeveless tank and jeans. She had made the bed and now sat on the bench at the foot of the bed. She had pulled her knees into her chest.

She studied him, her eyes assessing every detail of his body. “You don’t look different.”

“I’m the same man I was yesterday,” Duncan replied, not liking the flatness of her tone. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you stick with lovers who are your own kind?”

Duncan flinched before he realized Vanessa did not mean it as an accusation or an angry suggestion. Still, the question rankled. “Because it’s never worked out for me, no matter how many times I try. Also, the fact we’re both immortal can make the relationship worse, because it means twice as many potential landmines.”

“In what way?” Curiosity had Vanessa putting her knees down to sit more comfortably on the bench.

“One of my friends might be one of my immortal lover’s sworn enemies and vice versa. Or my immortal lover could decide they want to do me a favor and take a challenge I refused. The bottom line is that for me, I love no differently – immortal or mortal – and it hurts just as much to lose my lover either way.”

“Are any of those immortal ex-lovers still alive?”

“Yes. Richie worked for one of them for ten years in Paris and considers her to be a good friend.”

“She won’t try to get you back?” Worry now coated Vanessa’s voice.

“Amanda respects my relationships, and she’s in a long-term relationship with someone I respect, who is also one of us. They’ve been together for over twenty years now; I don’t see that changing soon.” Duncan knelt at Vanessa’s feet and took her hands in his. “As nice it is to not have to explain why I carry a sword everywhere or why I train so hard, being with my kind brings with it twice as many concerns. Amanda is older than me; she’s one of the oldest amongst us, which means she’s a bigger target. It’s part of why she’s living on holy ground now; someone spread word of her existence and turned her life upside down. That alone is a reason for me to stay on the other side of the Atlantic from her. I don’t need the trouble she represents in my life.”

“But I won’t live forever. I’ll grow old and you’ll hate how I look.”

“And you’ll hate having to explain that you’re not with your son or your grandson,” Duncan countered, “but I’ve lived this before, and I want every moment I can share with you. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks about us.” He took a deep breath. “I swear to you, Vanessa, whatever the years bring, I will love you, respect you, support you, and do my best to protect you from my enemies. That also means I’ll tell you if another of my kind is causing me problems.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “And if I say I don’t want to know?”

“Then I’ll tell you you’re fooling yourself and it doesn’t work. Not long-term, not in a healthy relationship, not for me. My last girlfriend tried that for a while. Molly eventually begged to know, because she realized her imagination was worse.”

Vanessa closed her eyes briefly. “Part of me wants to run and hide away and pretend like I didn’t hear everything last night, but I did.” She gripped his hands. “I woke this morning and thought, ‘Oh no, the bed’s empty, and I’m alone,’ and then I realized: you wouldn’t have left the house to go running. You still think Scott’s a threat, and until you have proof otherwise, you’ll stick like glue to me and Lily.” She met Duncan’s concerned gaze. “And I felt such relief that you loved me that much, but this whole thing… I’m scared.” She drew in a breath and exhaled it slowly. “I hate admitting that.”

“You are not less of a person for admitting your fear, sweetheart. I’m glad you told me. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make breakfast.” Rising, he helped Vanessa to her feet.

Downstairs, they found Lily, who had started a pot of coffee and was trying to figure out where Duncan had stored his blender.

“I don’t have one,” Duncan admitted. “I lost it in the move from Australia and have had little reason to replace it.”

Hearing that, Lily gave up on her blender quest. “Okay, so what are we doing for breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback much appreciated! :-)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits to previous chapters have been made. :-)

#### Monday, July 6

Duncan dropped both Lily and Vanessa off at their respective workplaces. The tracking app told Duncan when Scott was reunited with his wallet and therefore released from prison. Since the city jail was downtown, it did not take Scott long to make his way to Vanessa’s work, only to be stopped by the security guard’s insistence on following protocol.

From across the street, Duncan watched Scott storm out of the building, furious and swearing. He started pounding on the door, which had locked behind him. His behavior attracted attention. Without an ounce of regret, Duncan called the police to report the disturbance.

The police again arrested Scott. Livid now, Scott shot Duncan a glare full of hate as he came forward to make his eyewitness report to the police.

“You’ll regret this, Highlander!” Scott shouted.

Duncan doubted it, but he recognized he was playing a waiting game. After reporting what he had witnessed to the police, he headed to Richie’s condo, where the younger immortal waited. Richie’s condo was six blocks southeast of Vanessa’s office.

“How long do you think before he escapes?” Richie asked after he let Duncan into the condo. Both men took seats on the living room couch.

“A few hours,” Duncan estimated. “Maybe less. Depends on how much attention he paid to the process the first time.”

“That won’t be long enough,” Richie said sharply, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the couch.

Sensing the younger man’s impatience with his plan, Duncan remarked, “You really think he won’t stop.”

“Mac, Scott’s a threat to Vanessa’s sanity. I watched how quiet she got after we broke immortality to her, and you told her no, you would not take Scott’s head. If he’s not eliminated as a threat, she’ll quietly go mad, wondering if today’s the day he gets her.” Richie paused, letting that assessment sink in. He picked up the tablet he had left on the coffee table and quickly navigated to a site.

Duncan flinched as he realized Richie had taken more notice of Vanessa’s reaction than he had. Duncan had been so caught up in the moment, he had overlooked Vanessa’s lack of excitement. “I thought she was just in shock.”

Richie shook her head. “Not so shocked she couldn’t suggest the way to deal with him. Mac, Vanessa left Scott nearly a year ago. He’s had a year to figure out where she lives, where she works, what her phone number is, and now he knows she’s involved with one of us. Lily gave me the link to the police report, and I saw the other messages that fucker sent Vanessa. Scott used half a dozen different cell numbers to text her – as soon as she blocked one, he tried another. He’s vain, easy to anger, and he’s delusional enough to come to the other side of the country to stalk her, which likely means he doesn’t have a job that matters to him as much as she does. Scott will kill Vanessa. It’s not that he wants her back. He just doesn’t want anyone else to have her. That’s the point of his pursuit. Like I told Lily the other day, 76% of women murdered by an intimate partner were stalked first.”

Startled by that statistic, Duncan stared at his friend.

Reading the look, Richie handed him his tablet, which displayed a website detailing the statistics on domestic violence and stalking. Duncan’s heart sank as he read the facts from the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. The data saddened and infuriated him.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” he told Richie as he handed back the tablet. “I didn’t realize how much of a threat he represents. Have you been thinking about this all weekend?”

“Yeah, and it made me remember how Nick resorted to using statistics like that to get Amanda to take her stalker seriously,” Richie replied. “Even then, she thought it wasn’t a big deal – so what, he kills her, she gets up again. Turned out to be a way bigger deal – the stalker was a scout for a headhunter.”

Duncan winced. “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

“Even if it isn’t, Vanessa’s safety is still at risk. Scott may run away after getting arrested again, but I highly doubt it. He fits the profile of most stalkers. Scott will only escalate from here. Do you really want to spend the next however long waiting to see if Scott shows back up? You can’t protect Vanessa forever. At some point, she’ll want to take the bus, go to the lake for a run, go out clubbing with Lily, shop for clothes she doesn’t want you to see, etc. without you hovering. It’s already bad enough. Do you really want to add a threat from her past, one she knows you could handle?”

Unable to argue with that logic, Duncan rose and paced the living room unhappily. “I don’t enjoy killing.”

“Neither do I,” Richie said calmly, setting the tablet back on the coffee table. “But our choices are to keep calling the police every time he shows up, hope he can’t afford bail, and then keep doing it, repeatedly. What’s the chance one of us slips up? Or he gets to Vanessa? Or Lily? Or God forbid, Delara and Patrick? I’m not willing to gamble the safety of everyone I love, Duncan. Not for this, not when I could take his head and be done.”

Duncan pursed his lips and looked away briefly. “Part of me wants to agree with you, Richie. But what if no one taught Scott to care about people? Do we act as judge, jury, and executioner for someone who could be redeemed?”

“And how would we do that?” Richie countered. “You wouldn’t take him as a student – you don’t trust him that much. Who would you pass him off to, assuming he didn’t backstab you until such a time you could get someone here?” When Duncan did not reply, Richie pressed his point. “Mac, he’s delusional and dangerous. I can’t believe I’m sitting here arguing with you about why he needs to be put down like the rabid dog he is. I’d rather see him dead than waste time wondering if the police will be enough to contain him.”

Duncan hated that Richie was right; it meant he had miscalculated and made assumptions. Duncan had seen enough similar behavior to know the likelihood of Scott refusing to give up was low. The statistics he had read only magnified the danger. Abruptly, he realized he had underestimated the threat Scott represented.

“It won’t be a fair fight.”

Richie sighed. “No, it won’t. He’ll cheat – how, I don’t know – but that much Vanessa has warned us.” He favored Duncan with a look full of history, exasperation, and affection. “He’s not stupid. He’s afraid of you but by the time he gets out, he’ll have found a reason to believe he can beat you. Throw dirt in your eyes, use hot pepper, something to disable you or catch you off guard. He has cunning; the fact he recognized you were at least someone potentially strong enough to take him says he won’t come unprepared.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“You acted as Connor’s second when he was hunting Slan Quince; you knew he was tricky. Let me do the same here.”

Duncan let out a breath. “I remember when I despaired of ever teaching you strategy.”

Richie chuckled dryly. “I remember when I didn’t think I needed to know it.” He eyed Duncan. “Is that a yes?”

Resigned, Duncan said, “Yes. Since we’re downtown, let’s use the Spradlin Estate.”

“City hasn’t put up a fence on it yet and the front gate lock is still broken. I checked yesterday, so it should be good. If I get to him first, I’ll turn him over to you, but if he cheats and you can’t recover, I’m wading in and defending you.”

Duncan grimaced but accepted that offer.

Just then, the tracking app on their phones beeped with an alarm. Richie grabbed his phone first and swore.

“What does that mean?” Duncan asked, not understanding the red alert icon on the app.

“Means he’s too close to Vanessa. We need to go.” Richie threw his phone into his jacket, which still held his sword in its scabbard, grabbed his keys, and led Duncan out of the condo. Both men ran. Both were grateful that they were used to running together and for long distances, since it meant they were not out of breath by the time they got close to Scott.

Duncan used his greater ability to sense other immortals to find Scott; it didn’t take long. Scott had settled on a perch on the roof of the parking garage across the street from Vanessa’s office building. At the feel of Duncan and Richie’s combined Presences, he ran from the parking garage.

Together, they chased Scott toward the Spradlin Estate, an abandoned property on the southern edge of downtown. The 6-acre property had been once home to an eccentric industrialist who had willed it to a charitable foundation, which could not find enough funding to keep the property in its grand Victorian state. However, the foundation had funded demolition of the house and the razing of the greenhouse. Beyond the oak-lined perimeter, the industrialist’s lavish garden estate was slowly being reclaimed by nature. The city, to cut down on people camping out, had cleared the jungle, and cut down the overgrowth. This resulted in the property having the advantage of being private with a surprising amount of clear space in which to fight. The path into the estate was still paved but the fencing around the property was damaged and the gate lock was busted.

Scott kept checking over his shoulder as he ran. With no knowledge of the city, he ran blindly, hoping that wherever he was going was better than where he had been. Duncan and Richie did not let him escape. The geography of downtown Seacouver meant they could herd Scott ruthlessly, and they used that to their advantage.

Breathless from running, Scott turned to Richie. “Who the fuck are you? You don’t feel like you’re experienced enough to hunt.”

“Richie Ryan,” Richie said easily, stepping up to what had once been the tennis court but was now just grass.

Scott stared at him as he panted and tried to catch his breath. “The only Richie Ryan I know of,” he huffed, “has been in the Game longer than me.”

Smiling thinly, Richie let go of his control on his Presence. He could tell when it hit Scott; he paled and swallowed hard.

“Caught your breath yet?” Richie asked, his tone mocking.

Scott eyed him warily but drew his sword. “I heard the Highlander taught you, Ryan; that you were honorable. If you want my head, you must fight me.”

Richie chuckled humorlessly. “See, that’s where people go wrong, assuming they know which Highlander taught me or that only one ever did. I’m not fighting you today, Scott Claire. I’m just delivering you to the guy that is.”

Scott turned and saw Duncan on the other end of the grassy strip. He blanched. Turning to Richie, he bargained, “If it’s you or him, I’d rather take you.”

“Aww, sorry, but my dance card’s already full. Besides, Duncan wants you to pay for what you’ve stolen from Vanessa.”

Richie took a step back, out of the dueling field.

“You’re not even the better Highlander,” Scott boasted, his voice full of bravado as he moved into position. “You’re just the second-rate cousin.”

Duncan laughed. “Try harder, Scott Claire. Better women than you have insulted my heritage.”

Scott drew his two-toned sword. Within a few parries, it broke. He looked comically alarmed by it, but something about the smirk on his face made Duncan wary. Rather than press his advantage, Duncan stepped back.

Caught up in what he expected to happen, Scott dropped his broken sword and reached into his suit jacket to draw another, better sword. If Duncan had been close enough to strike, he would have taken a severe, possibly lethal hit. Instead, it took Scott a second to register Duncan was not where he expected him to be. Furious by Duncan’s caution, Scott rushed his attack.

Duncan took Scott’s head two parries later. The Quickening was brief and laced with hate. Richie waited until Duncan had cleaned his sword on Scott’s suit jacket before approaching him.

“You okay, Mac?” Richie asked, one hand still gripping his sword, which he had drawn as a precaution.

“What time is it?”

“Almost five. Vanessa will expect you to pick her up.”

Duncan glanced down at his blood-spattered clothing. “Not like this. Can you meet her? Tell her she need not worry about Scott anymore.” He grimaced as he straightened his shoulders, feeling the tension taking a Quickening caused. Hate-filled Quickenings took longer to settle, and the images Scott had left him with had been deliberately malicious. “I need at least a few hours to settle this. He shoved a lot of images at me and I don’t like the way I’m feeling about any of it. I don’t want to scare Vanessa.”

Richie nodded understanding. “I’ll take her to my place, since we ran down here; it’s closer.” Richie studied Duncan. “Something wrong?”

“You were right about his relentlessness and his methods of cheating. He was considering blowing up my car next, preferably with me and Vanessa in it. He wouldn’t have stopped until Vanessa was dead, and then he would have been happy to take my head, preferably the day of her funeral. Not that he would have succeeded, but that was what he dreamed of.”

Richie shot Duncan an unsurprised look. “Why does that surprise you?”

Duncan sighed heavily. “Because it means I seriously underestimated him.” He met Richie’s eyes. “You were ready to hunt him the night he broke into Lily’s house because of what happened to Amanda.”

Richie nodded. “Was hoping you’d come to the same conclusion by the end of the weekend.”

“Not until you and I talked about it earlier.” He shook his head. “Thank you. I’ll text you when I’m ready to pick up Vanessa, but it’ll likely be after dinner.”

Richie gripped Duncan’s shoulder reassuringly before taking his leave.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Richie paused before he entered the lobby of the building where Vanessa worked. He sent Vanessa a text.

_Duncan asked me to pick you up, _he wrote. _Are you ready to leave?_

_Yes. You must check in at the desk in the lobby,_ she replied. _They won’t let anyone upstairs without an escort._

Not surprised by that request, Richie entered the building and greeted the security guard at the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m meeting a friend who works for Chase Pitkin Media Services. Please let Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda know Richie Ryan is here to pick her up?”

“Certainly, sir. One moment,” the uniformed security officer said, picking up the phone. She dialed the extension that connected the lobby reception security station with the main desk for Chase Pitkin Media Services. “Hello, Olivia, this is Dinesha with Security at the lobby downstairs. You have a visitor for Vanessa Guajardo Zepeda named Richie Ryan, here to pick her up.” Mary listened to Olivia’s reply. “Oh, okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks, Olivia!”

Mary turned to Richie. “Vanessa will be down shortly.”

Nodding, Richie moved out of the way to lounge against the wall to Mary’s left, where he could see anyone coming out of the elevator. He did not have long to wait.

Vanessa ran out of the elevator to meet Richie. “What happened to Duncan? Is he all right?”

“He is; he just needs a few hours alone,” Richie replied. “You don’t have to worry about Scott anymore.”

Vanessa sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Richie shook his head. “Don’t thank me; it wasn’t my doing. Duncan asked me to take you home, so I figured we’d just head to my place.”

Vanessa considered it as she shouldered a backpack emblazoned with Chase Pitkin Media Services’ logo. “Is it far?”

“About six blocks southeast of here.”

“No, that’s fine. I wasn’t sure if I would go home tonight, so I brought clothes in my backpack. Lily was telling me she liked your guest room. She said you had this amazing photo of Paris hanging above the bed.”

Smiling, Richie led the way out of the building. “Yeah, I was friends with the photographer. When I told her I used to live on a barge on the Seine, she hounded me until we figured out how she could take a photo from where that barge had been moored. That photo on canvas was her going-away present to me. When Mac saw it, he said he didn’t know that view meant that much to me.”

“How come?” Vanessa asked.

“Because I spent more time away from that barge as I did living in it,” Richie admitted. “But it was Mac’s, and for a guy who grew up homeless, knowing I had a home to go home to meant everything.”

“Duncan had a barge on the Seine?” Amazed, Vanessa looked at Richie.

Richie chuckled. “Yeah. It’s the reason I tease him about his lack of modesty. He sometimes forgot I was in the aft cabin, trying to sleep.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened as she picked up on the implication. “You heard him while he was with his girlfriend? Didn’t that bother you?”

Richie shrugged. “I wound up having a long talk with Tessa about what real love was supposed to be. She was French; the French don’t have the same hang-ups about sexuality that most Americans do. But for the record – when Mac talked about moving back to Seacouver and opening a dojo, I told him I didn’t want to share an apartment with him again.”

“He has a glass wall in the master bathroom,” Vanessa murmured.

Grinning, Richie said, “Yeah, I know. He loves that about that bathroom; it’s partly what sold him on the space.”

“I’m used to it now, but it still feels very exposed,” Vanessa noted. “Would you have that in your home?”

“No,” Richie replied. “I appreciate having a solid door that locks.”

As they walked, Vanessa asked, “Can we talk about what happened?”

Richie shook his head. “I’d rather not tell you the specifics, but I can tell you some things about what to expect next. How was work?”

“A little crazy,” Vanessa admitted, looking disappointed by the redirect, but willing to take it. “Don’t tell Duncan this, but I couldn’t think straight all day.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Richie reassured her.

Vanessa was quiet as they walked another two blocks. Finally, she asked, “Do you ever worry about him?”

Richie chuckled dryly. “When I first met him, I thought there was little he couldn’t do and never worried about his ability to handle anything. But it’s been over twenty years since then, and we’ve both seen and done shit that’s shaken our faith in a lot of things. So yes, I do worry about him.”

“But you’re not worried about him now,” Vanessa deduced.

“No. He’s probably mediating or doing katas right now; it’s sometimes easier to process what happened with exercise.”

“Oh. How do you deal?”

Richie shrugged. “Ride my motorcycle to somewhere that’s not full of people or go dancing in a crowded club, where no one cares about my dancing.”

“Wouldn’t Delara and Patrick get jealous?”

Richie flashed Vanessa a smile. “I didn’t say I was alone.” They reached the end of the next block and he turned to face her. “I suspect the reason Duncan wanted time alone is that he got the download of what Scott knew about you. It won’t change how he sees you, but it’s uncomfortable, because it means now he knows your history with Scott as Scott saw it.”

Vanessa winced. “I can’t imagine that wouldn’t change my perspective if it was me.”

Richie clasped her forearm reassuringly. “Hence his need to have a few hours to digest it all, so the next time he sees you, it won’t be with that information fresh in his head. I’d do the same if it was someone who knew Delara or Patrick.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, her voice quiet and a little afraid.

“He wants to give you back as much of your privacy as he can by giving himself time to digest what he’s learned so he can pack it away,” Richie added. “It won’t change how he feels about you, Vanessa. Trust me. It’ll become like the federal secrets you’re keeping.”

Vanessa considered that information as they finished the walk to Richie’s condo. In companionable silence, he led her through the locked security gate, up the elevator, and into the unit.

She waited until he had closed and locked the door behind him before speaking. “That makes sense. But if I wanted to ask him what he knew, it wouldn’t be rude?”

“He might not answer you,” Richie told her gently. “He’s trying to be a gentleman about this, Vanessa. What happened between you and Scott – that’s stuff that was your choice to tell him or not. Now, he has all that info you haven’t said, and he won’t talk about it. He rarely talks about what he learned from a Quickening, regardless.”

Anxiously, Vanessa searched Richie’s face. “He won’t leave me because of what he learned?”

“I doubt it,” Richie said. He favored her with a gentle smile. “Look, I know your brain is probably going a million miles an hour, and you think it’s your fault Scott’s dead.”

“Isn’t it? He stalked me.”

“He also would have, statistically, killed you or tried to kill you,” Richie responded flatly. “I don’t think you should have to spend the rest of your life afraid.”

Vanessa winced. “Yeah, he used to talk about how he liked to handle his problems. He’d tell me how he killed them all. I didn’t –” She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I didn’t realize until this past weekend he likely meant he killed or wanted to kill everyone he had problems with.” She took a seat on the couch in the living room. “But he’s dead? You saw?”

“Yes.” Richie saw no reason to sugarcoat his response. “And for the record, Vanessa, it’s okay to grieve.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I–” Her voice caught as emotion welled through her. “I shouldn’t! He’s dead and I’ve wanted him dead for years!”

“And you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel something,” Richie pointed out. “I’d be more worried about you if you didn’t react.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I look at you and I forget you’re in your forties, and then I hear you talk like this and there’s no doubt you’ve done some living.”

He chuckled wryly. “The school of hard knocks has been my best education. Do you want some wine before dinner? I figured it’ll be at least another two hours before Duncan’s ready to see you. If you’re hungry, I was planning on cooking dinner anyway and I always make more than I can eat in one sitting.”

Vanessa stared at him before shaking her head. “Yes, I’d love some wine, and whatever you’re cooking is fine with me. Lunch was a long time ago.”


	14. Chapter 14

#### Saturday, July 12

Duncan woke abruptly, years of training kicking in as his subconscious registered something was amiss. He found the other side of the bed empty. He sighed, turned on the light, and walked out of the bedroom. As he had for the past week, he found Vanessa on the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around her body. Apart from work and a run to Lily’s townhouse for more clothes, Vanessa had insisted on spending every night with Duncan, but this pattern was getting old.

“Sweetheart, it’s late. You should be in bed. You have slept little this week.”

“Can’t sleep; my brain is wired.”

Pushing the blanket aside, he pulled her closer; she went willingly. “Then tell me what’s bothering you.”

She leaned in his embrace for a moment before sitting up and asking, “How can you know what happened between me and Scott and still love me?”

Duncan sighed; he had been expecting this all week. “Because he never knew the woman you became after you left Alexandria. That woman – who found happiness in a new life here in the city because she had been through hell and didn’t want a repeat of it – is who I fell in love with. Vanessa darling, you’re a resilient, passionate, dedicated, and beautiful woman. I’m proud of you and proud to be with you. I can’t imagine loving anyone else the way I love you.”

Vanessa absorbed this. “Even with all your history?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

“Darling, what I felt about anyone else doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. I don’t look at you and make comparisons in my head. That’s not something I do.”

“Richie told me he hadn’t seen you in love with someone like you loved Tessa until me.”

“Did he also tell you I’ve never seen him in love so much he’d break his own heart rather than risk hurting the people he loved?”

Vanessa looked at Duncan, startled.

“We’re not the same men we were when Tessa was alive, twenty years ago. In that time, I learned I need to communicate more, and not assume my way of doing things is the only or best way. If you’d told me then I’d be willing to consider those as valid options, I would have scoffed. I thought I had everything figured out, because I’ve lived as long as I have. I don’t. Every time I think I understand it all, something comes along to surprise me. All I can do, my darling Vanessa, is talk to you and understand where we stand, where we want to go, and where we’ve been. I love you, not as a stand-in for someone else, not for the woman Scott thought you were, but for you and who you are now.”

“I feel silly after hearing you say that,” she admitted. “I was convinced you’d find out what happened between him and me and you’d leave. You’d tell me I was wasting your time.”

“I’m not him,” Duncan pointed out gently. “Part of learning to handle Quickenings is not getting so overwhelmed that the other immortal overwrites who you are.” A pang went through him as he remembered how lost he had been during his Dark Quickening experience. “Scott wasn’t that strong, Vanessa. His emotional manipulation of you was just part of his weakness. His teacher hoped that by teaching him about what he was, he’d take that opportunity to become a better person. He didn’t.”

Vanessa exhaled slowly. “I’m not sorry you took Scott’s head.” She looked at Duncan. “I keep thinking I should be.”

“I’d be more worried if you started advocating that violence as the answer to every future immortal I meet,” Duncan countered.

She chuckled ruefully. “No, I can’t say I will. Your friendship with Richie makes me hope that there are more immortals like you and him. And you never called Connor and introduce me.”

Duncan kissed her. “No, I didn’t; we should call him later. Come to bed; he’ll yell at me for not making sure you’ve rested enough if you look tired.”

“Seriously?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes. He likes to tease me about such things, but he forgets I’m willing to return the favor.”

Vanessa laughed ruefully and let Duncan lead her back to the bedroom. Once under the covers, he held her close.

“Promise me you’ll talk to me when you get this caught up in your head you can’t sleep? Or if not me, someone else you trust?”

“I promise,” Vanessa vowed. “I learned early I couldn’t talk to my parents about how I felt, because it would spiral into how I couldn’t upset my mother.”

“Did Sasha help?”

“Some,” Vanessa nodded. “But I always had this sense she might tell my father what was going on, so after a while, I wouldn’t tell her everything.”

“That would make you inclined not to say anything to anyone,” Duncan noted. “It explains why Lily said you’d eventually talk if I didn’t push.”

Vanessa smiled wryly. “I’m not used to leaning on people.” She searched Duncan’s face. “But I’ve always wanted a partnership with my significant other, where we could talk about anything and everything, and supported each other. I love you and want us to be together, Duncan, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“As do I. I love you, mo leannan.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s Scots Gaelic for ‘my sweetheart.’”

“I like that better than the English,” Vanessa said. She lifted her head and kissed him. “You can call me that anytime.” She yawned. “Talk more in the morning?”

“Of course.” Duncan shifted until her head was resting on his shoulder. He breathed in measured breaths until she had calmed enough to fall asleep. Satisfied she would not be roaming the apartment again, he let go of his control and followed her in slumber. This week would not be the last test of their relationship, but Duncan had faith that he and Vanessa would enjoy a long and happy future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who commented and put kudos along the way! You really make a difference in the output. :-)   
As always - please let me know what you think, even when this fic is "old" and I've long forgotten I wrote it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always: it's rare I don't finish something, so please let me know what you think (constructive criticism is ok, flaming/hate/trolling is not). Kudos, comments, keyboard smashes, and/or "I like this!" always welcome!


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